As I live and Breathe
by cheshcat13
Summary: It's a second chance kind of encounter when Shouto runs into an old friend, if he can even call him that. A friend he hasn't seen in two years, never again if he'd had any say in it. Secrets that once bound them together have torn them apart, and Shouto's carefully constructed (read: lonely) life is turned upside down as he's reminded that family is what you make it.
1. Shouto: Me, too

Glasses clink together and the dishwasher is running somewhere behind the bar. The music is just loud enough to be heard over the quiet hum of conversation coming from all directions and Shouto finds it comforting as he sips his beer and looks over the case report on the counter in front of him. The dim light is just enough to make out the words on the paper, but the letters blur in front of Shouto's eyes. Damn, he'd forgotten his glasses in the car.

He sets his half-finished pint on the bar and rubs at his eyes for a moment before getting up from his seat and heading out to grab them. He stops in his tracks at the sound of a gasp from behind him and then there's a voice he hasn't heard in two years, had hoped to never hear again, if he were being honest, calling out to him from the door.

"Todoroki Shouto, as I live and breathe." Shouto schools his expression into a blank stare before looking up to meet wide, emerald green eyes and a smile that somehow still manages to make Shouto's heart drop into his stomach.

"That's a strange thing to say, Midoriya" he gulps, hesitation laced under his usual monotone as he tries to be subtle about searching for an exit route.

Midoriya's smile dims just a little at the use of his family name, then, it's back and bright as ever. "It's an English phrase, Ocha's got me hooked on all these American dramas. It's a great distraction during midterms." Shouto's breath hitches minutely at the mention of Midoriya's wife. He really should just run for the door, he thinks, but the hope in Midoriya's eyes gives him pause and he finds himself responding as though he had never walked away.

"Midterms? Are you still over at Shiketsu?" Midoriya seems to take this as consent to step forward and join Shouto at the bar. Shouto flinches briefly and watches as Midoriya's grin falters.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Are you busy? Were you leaving? I can go…" Shouto can't help but smile at Midoriya's rambling, same old Midoriya, then.

With a sigh, Shouto sits back down in his seat and gestures to the stool next to him, inviting Midoriya to join him. "No, it's alright," he says and hopes he won't regret it, "I left my glasses in the car. Sit, tell me about Shiketsu." Anything but your home life, probably perfect marriage, how good everything is without me in the picture to muck it up. He bites his tongue as the bitter feeling of jealousy coats his throat.

Midoriya's smile is back, though it's a little more subdued now. "Yuuei is great, I'm the Freshman homeroom teacher and I'm coaching the track team now. It's a lot of work, but I love the kids."

"I'm sure they love you, too," Shouto responds easily because it's true, Midoriya's spirit and determination are magnetic. The man next to him had largely been an inspiration for his own career.

"Well, I don't know about that. I hope they can at least retain something from my lessons, teaching is so much more than repeating facts." Izuku laughs a little as he turns toward Shouto and sets a bent elbow down on the bar. Resting his chin on his hand and looking at Shouto a little sheepishly, he continues, "Anyway, how are you? Finally get that PhD?"

"I did, yes…" and so it begins, or continues really, after a two-year long hiatus. Shouto finds their conversation as easy as they had always been, save the last one. Shouto tells Midoriya about finishing school, his dissertation, largely focused on the negative long-term effects of PTSD relating to childhood trauma. Midoriya lights up at that and Shouto listens as Midoriya ponders the implications of his research.

Shouto talks about his work as a social worker and child psychologist. He's passionate about what he does, the children he helps. It's an emotionally draining career, but it keeps him going and drowns out the emptiness of the rest of his life. He doesn't say as much to Midoriya.

In turn, Midoriya shares stories about teaching and coaching, tells Shouto about his students with a far-off, fond look in his eyes. He talks about his writing, slow-going, but he manages and knows it's going to be published someday. Midoriya gets lost on some tangent about how the school board had voted to cut funding for the theatre department again and Shouto is lost in his words, the brightness of his voice, and the blush on his cheek.

For a moment, everything is perfect, somehow it's slipped Shouto's mind that this was the first conversation the two of them had in ages, this wasn't a usual part of his life as it had once been before Shouto had made a mess and run away without trying to clean it up. Neither seem inclined to mention the night that he had disappeared or what it was that lead him to do so.

At some point shortly after Midoriya arrived, the bartender had come and taken his order. Midoriya ordered whatever Shouto was having and then ordered Shouto another. Shouto is generally a one-beer-to-relax kind of guy, but the alcohol calms his nerves. He finishes his first before the second arrives and then sips it greedily as warmth fills his chest.

They've been here for a few hours, lost in catching up and joking like they'd never stopped. The bartender has come and gone multiple times, always returning with another round.

Shouto is very suddenly aware that he's drunk when he leans into the arm he has propped on the table where his work had once been, put away hours ago in lieu of his current company. His realization comes as he's listening to Midoriya talk about his book, the same one he had been writing since they were eighteen and Midoriya's biggest dream had been broken with the sound of a loud crack that nobody had seen coming. Midoriya's face is mostly veiled in shadow, but a light from behind the bar shines in just the right direction to catch the green in Midoriya's eyes and the freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose, the blush on his right cheek.

It hits him the moment his mind fuzzes over and he almost almost leans across their laps and places his hand on the shining cheek. Midoriya doesn't notice as Shouto starts to lean forward and chooses that moment to lift his glass up to his lips with his left hand, his golden ring catching in the light and serving as a painful reminder that this is not a fantasy, that Midoriya is not his to touch and never really had been. Save for that one night.

Because he is drunk, Shouto yelps and leans far back in his stool, too far, and his stomach leaps into his chest as he tumbles backward, landing on his back with a resounding thud.

Midoriya, it seems, is also drunk. So he cries "Shouto!" in surprise and then attempts to help him, stumbling out of his seat and tripping over the fallen stool at his feet. Before either know what is happening, Midoriya lands on top of Shouto, knocking the wind from his chest and tangling their legs awkwardly with the bar stool. Shouto can feel Midoriya's breath on his face and wills himself to look up, a blush rising to his cheeks as he registers Midoriya's darkened gaze and the way he keeps glancing at Shouto's lips.

"Shouto, I…" Midoriya begins and for a moment Shouto entertains the idea of kissing Midoriya. It would be easy with so little space separating their lips. He could even chalk it up to an accident, maybe. Crazy things happen when you're drunk, like Midoriya lying on top of him in the middle of a bar, staring at him like he's a lake in the middle of the desert.

Before he can make up his mind, someone to his left clears their throat and he looks up to find the bartender already taking away their mostly full glasses and replacing them with water.

As if he has only just realized the precariousness of their predicament, Midoriya blushes deeply and squeaks as he scrambles to his feet and sloppily picks up the bar stool before reaching out his hand and helping Shouto to his feet. Once Shouto is up, Midoriya holds on for a moment too long, staring a little too hard at Shouto.

It's all so intense, the room is spinning and his stomach is starting to turn a little, but Midoriya's hand in his is as warm as the look in his eyes and he wants to savor the moment for as long as he can.

Too soon, the warmth is gone and Midoriya is leaning back on his heels and rubbing at the back of his head. An old habit he's apparently never bothered to break.

"Well, I should probably getting going.. ahhh" he cries as he loses his balance and starts to fall. Without a thought, Shouto lunges forward and catches Midoriya's arm, pulling him upright and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asks, surprised he has wits enough about him to form a coherent sentence.

"Y-yeah," Midoriya stutters as Shouto finally takes a step back, "sorry, I don't usually drink so much, I ah-guess I was nervous." He brings his hands to his mouth and the blush on his cheeks darkens in his attempt to explain himself, " I mean I just haven't seen you in forever and I didn't want to embarrass myself or say something that would make you leave again..."

"Midoriya," Shouto says, the words coming out muffled around his lazy tongue, "Me, too. I'm nervous, too."

The apologies stop at that and Midoriya looks at Shouto with surprise. "Oh," he says, "okay."

"Okay," Shouto nods and then looks around at the near-empty bar, surprised to see the clock on the wall read one.

"I really should be getting home, though." Midoriya says, but makes no move to leave.

Shouto merely nods, the contents of his stomach are rising in his throat and his tongue feels swollen in his mouth, he's sure if he opens it everything will come spilling out, especially the things he should absolutely not say right now. They stare at one another for a moment before the tension overwhelms him and Shouto turns to leave. The room spins around him. Neon lights and pool tables blur together in reds and deep greens as Shouto sways a little as he takes a step and then wills himself to take another.

He doesn't even make it to the door before there's a hand on his shoulder and Midoriya's concerned voice ringing in his ear. "Hey, you okay?"

Shouto tries to nod, but his brain is jelly and he can feel the sweat on his brow, his flushed cheeks. He tries to keep walking, but trips on air and nearly finds himself colliding with the floor again. The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip to steady Shouto and then Midoriya is right next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and propping him against his side. "Okayyyy, I think I'm going to help you get home," Midoriya says and Shouto doesn't have the coherency to argue.

"I'm gonna get an Uber, what's your address?" Midoriya asks as he reaches into his pocket for his phone.

The slur of sounds that come out of Shouto's mouth are definitely not words and his eyelids droop as he lets his weight rest on Midoriya.

Midoriya bites his lip and looks from his phone to Shouto and back again. He seems to make a decision as he stares at Shouto with resolve set in his eyes. "Okay, you can stay on my couch," he says, and, even through his drunken stupor, Shouto manages to look hesitant.

"It's okay," Midoriya says quiet and quick, like he shouldn't be saying it at all, "Ocha's at her parents, she's helping her Dad with a project. It's why I was at the bar actually, the house is too quiet these days."

This time, it isn't the alcohol that causes Shouto's stomach to turn. He knows this is a bad idea, especially now that Midoriya has confessed his wife's absence like Shouto's presence in their home is a secret. He's too drunk to say no to himself, though, so instead, he leans further into Midoriya and allows him to lead the way.

The inside of the car smells like artificial pine trees and the music is a little too loud, the bass reverberating in his eardrums and amplifying the pounding in his head. The warmth from the heater is suffocating and Shouto can't bring his heavy limbs to move, so he closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth. Someone reaches across him and rolls down his window; Midoriya, his mind supplies, though he doesn't bother to open his eyes.

The blast of fresh air is soothing on Shouto's flushed face and he turns toward the window, inhaling the cool breeze as he wills the sick in his stomach away.

"Almost there, Shou," Midoriya's words are slurred as they meet Shouto's ears. He isn't aware enough to be embarrassed about his current state, but it is nice to know he isn't the only one who's had too much.

Shouto has a vague awareness of the weight of Midoriya's hand in his as his thumb traces soothing circles over Shouto's knuckles. It doesn't mean anything, the words play on a loop in Shouto's head, over and over until they don't mean anything either.

Just as Shouto's thoughts begin to blur, their repetition lulling him to sleep, the car is pulling over and stopping in Midoriya's driveway. "Wait there," Midoriya says as he opens his door and tumbles out of the car, "I'll come help you."

Then, his door is opening and Midoriya is unbuckling him and pulling him out of the car with clumsy hands. This time, Midoriya wraps his arm around Shouto's waist and puts one of Shouto's arms around his own neck. With a bit of effort, they make it up the porch stairs and into the house.

When they get inside, Midoriya deposits Shouto on the couch and then runs off to find a pillow and blanket. If Shouto were present in this moment, he would be very uncomfortable sitting in the Midoriya's living room, staring up at Izuku and Ochaco's wedding photo. As it is, Shouto is still caught up in the feeling of Midoriya's strong arm around his waist, holding him close and tight and secure. Even after all this time, after everything that had happened, Midoriya is still Midoriya, and, apparently, Shouto's friend.

Yes, friend, Shouto thinks, nothing more. Be grateful he's that much after what you did.

Midoriya rushes back into the room before Shouto can follow that train of thought too far. He doesn't like to dwell on what happened, it's always been easier to keep his feelings at surface level when it comes to Midoriya, otherwise he's certain he would drown in the overwhelming current of his regrets.

"Here," Midoriya says, tossing his armful of bedclothes on the ground and picking up a pillow. He places it on the end of the couch and pats it smooth. "Lay down."

Shouto doesn't have to be told twice. The light of the room is blinding and his thoughts have taken a turn for the worse. Best to sleep it off.

As soon as his head hits the pillow, Shouto closes his eyes and allows his body to relax. He can feel Midoriya draping the blanket over him and Shouto curls into the warmth, already half asleep.

Maybe Midoriya thinks he is asleep, but Shouto doesn't stir when he feels a warm hand smoothing his too-long bangs out of his face, or dry lips brushing his forehead.

It's so brief that Shouto is almost sure he is dreaming, but somewhere far away he can hear Midoriya whispering, "I'm so glad I found you." Behind heavy eyelids, Shouto sees emerald green and fierce determination, a small, pleading smile and a crooked pinky. Midoriya has called the game and Shouto will always accept the challenge.

"Me, too." He whispers into the empty room as the sound of footsteps grows quieter and he finally succumbs to sleep.


	2. Izuku: Sixteen and the First Secrets

The late autumn air is crisp and sharp against Izuku's cheeks as he opens the door of his mother's minivan and steps out into the sparsely populated parking lot. It will still be awhile before Izuku's hands are chalked, before he's throwing his body through the air and landing on light feet. His blood pounds in his veins and he's rushing towards the doors of the convention center before his mom and his coach can catch up to him.

Midoriya Izuku qualified for Nationals and nothing is going to keep him away from World Championships.

Nothing, that is, besides his own feet and whoever decided to toss an empty can on the ground rather than into a recycling bin. Izuku is too caught up in his own thoughts to notice it as he barrels forward, his right foot colliding with the can and sending him careening toward the asphalt with no chance to catch himself.

His cheeks flush crimson with embarrassment as he closes his eyes and throws out his arms instinctively. Just before he makes contact, there are two small, strong hands on his shoulders, catching him and pushing him upright.

Great, he thinks as he steadies himself, I'm a gymnast at Nationals and someone just had to save me from falling on my face.

"Woah," comes a voice that somehow bubbles in front of him and Izuku finally looks up to find a small, round-faced girl with a brunette bob and pink cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Izuku's red-face darkens as he realizes he is talking to a girl, a very cute girl, who just saved him from a broken nose, or worse. He does his best not to flail, but his voice squeaks as he responds, "yes, I-uh, thank you!" It's all Izuku can manage.

"No problem!" Her smile is kind as she glances at his duffel bag, "don't want you getting injured before you make it to the mat. I'm Uraraka Ochaco." The girl offers him her hand and he shakes it, startled by her easy kindness.

For the first time in Izuku's sixteen years he thinks he might finally be making a friend.

"Useless, Deku!" Izuku doesn't have a chance to tell her his name before an angry voice from behind him interrupts them. "How'd a dumb nerd like you qualify for Nationals if you can't even walk across a fucking parking lot without tripping?!"

"Ka-Kacchan!" His voice squeaks again and Izuku curses his nerves. There's a hand gripping the collar of his jacket now and his feet are barely touching the ground as Kacchan glares at him, his brown eyes shining red as he screams in Izuku's face.

"Listen here, you useless bastard! I don't know how you did it, but it doesn't matter. I WILL WIN! I am the best and there's no way a fucking Deku like you is going to beat me. Do you understand?"

Izuku gulps as his collar tightens around his neck and Kacchan is glaring daggers like a threat.

Uraraka is clearing her throat behind him and stepping forward. "Um?" She starts curiously, looking between Izuku and Kacchan, "you seem very confident, but you should probably put him down."

Izuku is surprised when Kacchan complies, setting him down and releasing him from his grip with a shove. "Fine," he says, his face set in his usual scowl, "I'll fucking kill you, Deku." Then he's gone, stomping away toward the entrance as Uraraka watches Izuku with careful eyes.

"Ah," he starts, embarrassed for himself, so much for making a friend. "Sorry about that, Kacchan is...well, Kacchan, but it's okay! He's always been like that."

"Okayyyy," she doesn't seem convinced but she moves on anyway. "You're Deku, then?"

"Whhaa? No no no, that's just something Kacchan's always called me. It's an alternative reading of my name. He says it because it means useless."

"That's rude! I kind of like it, though. It sounds like 'you can do it!' to me," Uraraka's smile is sweet and encouraging and for the first time Izuku thinks he might not hate being called Deku after all. Not if it's Uraraka saying it.

"Well, my name is Izuku, but you can call me Deku if you'd like!"

Uraraka answers with a warm smile and then turns her gaze toward the parking lot which has filled up in the time they've been standing there. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Deku! I should probably go start stretching. Let's do our best, okay?"

Izuku nods in response and holds up his fist with a determined grin "right!"

With a smirk, Uraraka spins on her heels and heads into the building.

He's about to follow her in when he hears his mom's voice calling to him over the din of the bustling crowd. Izuku turns to see her and Yagi watching him from a few feet away.

"Mo-mom! Have you been there long?" Izuku asks, hoping they hadn't seen his interaction with Kacchan.

"Just long enough to see you talking with that cute girl!" She teases him with a gentle smile.  
His cheeks burn and his hands fly up to cover them. "It's not like that!" He cries, "I tripped and she caught me and then Kacchan showed up…"

"Young Midoriya," it's the voice of his coach, Yagi Toshinori, that halts his rambling. Izuku whips his head up to meet his mentor's amused gaze. "I'm sure your Mother means she is glad to see you making friends."

"Ri-right. Well, I should head to the locker rooms before they get too crowded."

There are tears of pride glistening in his mom's eyes as Izuku gestures in the general direction of the entrance.

"Of course!" His mother cries, pulling him into a quick embrace, "I'm so proud of you, Sweetie."

Yagi steps forward and pats Izuku on the head once his mom has finally releases him. "Your mother and I will be watching from the bleachers. Now, go show them that you are here!"

Izuku throws his fist in the air and, with a whoop of excitement, turns around and rushes through the door and into the stadium.

Izuku makes it through registration and finds the locker rooms without much complication, save the five minutes he spends hiding in a dark corner when he sees a familiar head of spiky blonde hair milling around the lobby.

By the time he's changed and making his way to the floor he only has five minutes left before he has to meet up with his team and Aizawa, his event coach. Aizawa runs the Olympics training program at the local gym and had been the one to introduce Izuku to Yagi, though inadvertently.

Yagi is a legend in the gymnastics world and Izuku's biggest inspiration. When he had shown up at Yuuei to pay Aizawa a visit during one of Izuku's supplemental training sessions, the boy nearly had a heart attack. Yagi watched as Izuku fumbled through his floor routine, offered him pointers, and then, when he tried again, there was marked improvement thanks to the man's tips.

When Yagi asked Izuku if he could take him on as a pupil, Izuku was sure that he was dreaming. Yagi Toshinori had never shown any interest in coaching, though he'd received many requests, but he wanted to coach Izuku, who was mediocre at best.

When Izuku asked him why, Yagi had said he'd reminded him of himself before he won his first championship, rough around the edges, but headstrong and determined, had said that he thought Izuku could go all the way with the right training, had said that he had been considering coaching for some time but hadn't found the right person.

Izuku's tears fell hot and loud at Yagi's words as he resolved to work hard, harder than he ever had before because someone had given him the chance to make his dreams come true.

Still, Yagi had retired long ago and gymnasts had finally learned to stop asking him to coach. He wanted to keep it that way, so Izuku had continued to train with Aizawa, in addition to solo lessons with Yagi. When competition season rolled around, Yagi would merely be there to show support as a family friend. It isn't an easy secret to keep, but, with Yagi's help, Izuku managed to improve, blow away his competition at Regionals, and qualify for Nationals.

If keeping a secret was the only price he had to pay to have Yagi Toshinori as his coach he would take that secret to his grave.

The smell of chalk dust and sweaty mats smacks Izuku in the face as he exits the locker room. It's familiar and comforts him as he glances around the floor. There are already people sitting in the bleachers, munching on popcorn and watching as the gymnasts stretch and chat, preparing for the coming events.

His eyes scan the room, searching for the familiar unkempt, black hair that belongs to Aizawa. A flash of white catches his attention and from across the room he can see Todoroki Shouto stretching by the pommel horse. Izuku's breath hitches a little at the sight.

Todoroki Shouto is nothing short of a prodigy and the son of Todoroki Enji, another legend, second only to Yagi. Rumor has it that Todoroki started training with his father when he was still in diapers and his success only strengthens the gossip. The boy has already won countless competitions and is commonly regarded as a shoe-in for this year's Olympics. He's Izuku's biggest rival, after Kacchan that is.

Izuku stares a little too long, long enough to notice the way Todoroki seems to be favoring his right side, long enough to notice the tightness in the other boy's jaw and the miniscule crease in his brow. At a passing glance, Todoroki Shouto looks bored, but Izuku sees pain in his eyes.

Izuku stares long enough that Todoroki notices and looks up to glare in his direction. Izuku is quick to look away, his signature blush rising to his cheeks and leaving his face hot.

"There you are, problem child." Aizawa's voice breaks him from his trance and he glances over his shoulder to find the man looking disgruntled as ever, "are you going to stretch or do you plan on breaking all your bones today?"

"Ahh, sorry Sensei!" Izuku cries and, with one last glance at Todoroki, who seems to have resumed his stretching and is no longer paying any mind to the strange, dark-haired boy with a staring problem, he turns and joins his team.

Aizawa sighs and shakes his head as Izuku sets his bag on the ground and sits down with his legs in front of him. Shinso Hitoshi is kneeling on the floor to his right stretching his hamstrings and offers Izuku a small nod when he glances over at him. He doesn't bother to look to his left, knowing he'd only be met with a glare and a snarl. Lucky Aizawa is here to keep Kacchan at least a little civil.

It's another glare that occupies Izuku's thoughts as he folds himself in half and grabs the arches of his feet with his hands, the glare on his mind is outlined by white fringe and an old, large scar that surrounds the piercing blue of its owner's left eye. It's almost enough to conceal the loneliness permanently embedded there. Maybe it's Izuku's own perpetual loneliness that causes him to take notice of it, but now he can't get it out of his head.

An announcement plays over the speakers and shakes Izuku out of his inner ramblings. The show is about to go on and the first event, floor, is Izuku's best, though vault is a close second. Todoroki is known for his exceptional floorwork and Izuku grins at the challenge as he makes his way to the lineup.

He's scanning the crowd for his mom and Yagi when someone steps into line beside him. Just as he's about to glance over at them he notices his mom waving out of the corner of his eye. He smiles wide and waves back. When Yagi throws him a thumbs up, Izuku sends him one of his own and the person next to him clears their throat.

"Excuse me." Izuku turns to meet the heterochromatic eyes of Todoroki Shouto looking intensely between Izuku and the bleachers.

"Y-yes?" Izuku stutters.

Todoroki is looking at him like he's trying to work out a puzzle and Izuku is too stunned to speak so he's left gaping as he waits for Todoroki to continue.

"Is Yagi Toshinori your dad or something?"

"WHA? No! What? Why?!"

"I saw someone who looks just like he would if he stopped training -or maybe eating? give you a thumbs up and he's sitting with a woman who looks very much like she's your mother. It's a logical assumption."

"Oh," is all Izuku can manage, his mouth hanging open like a fish. He shakes his head a little and searches for a response. "He's not, he's-uh an old family friend. I honestly think he just uses me as an excuse to go to the competitions."

Todoroki is watching him carefully, and, after a beat, seems to accept Izuku's response. "No matter."

Before Izuku has a chance to respond, the first gymnast is called to the floor and Todoroki is turning his attention to the stage without another word.

Izuku is busy mentally running over his routine for the umpteenth time, doing his best not to glance at the strange boy next to him, when his name is finally called.

With a deep breath he makes his way to the mat, stopping at the corner of it and glancing back at the bleachers to where Yagi is seated. There's a wide smile waiting for him and Izuku nods and grins before pressing his feet together and holding his arms up above his head in a V. One final breath to clear his mind and then he's running across the thick vinyl, cartwheeling into a backflip, tumbling into a somersault and landing on his feet light as he can.

It's exhilarating, Izuku loves the way his thoughts seem to fall away. His body moves from memory as he flies through the air and rolls across the mat. It seems to only last seconds before Izuku is through his routine and, once again, holding his hands above his head, his chest heaving and the biggest, brightest smile on his lips.

He doesn't have to wait long for his results and he watches the five numbers appear on the large screen above him. Three 9's, one 8, and a 10. Forty-five is very good, his best score yet, in fact. His smile only widens as he heads off the stage toward Aizawa and Shinsou.

Aizawa nods his approval and Shinsou offers him the slightest upturn of his lips. Shinsou may be quiet, but he's not rude, and Izuku thinks that even that hint of a grin can be downright encouraging. Izuku smiles and turns to watch the next routine, he's been waiting for this one.

Taking his seat next to Aizawa, he leans forward and trains his eyes on the tall boy whose slightly adjusting his beginning stance. Finally, his feet come together and his arms reach over his head in a V. Izuku doesn't even have a chance to blink before Todoroki is launching himself into the air, flipping backwards three times and sticking his landing.

There is considerable strength in Todoroki's movements, his control is outstanding, but more than that Todoroki is graceful, impossibly light on his feet. At times Izuku is certain he's flying, soaring, at least, and the crowd is mesmerized. Izuku thinks he should be, too. It's true, Todoroki's routine is well-rounded and perfected, the best Izuku has ever been up against, but Izuku isn't watching Todoroki's practiced footwork or perfectly executed handsprings. No, Izuku is looking at his face and he looks, honestly, bored. He looks like he'd rather be doing anything other than competing for a chance at Worlds.

Something about it annoys Izuku, It doesn't even look like Todoroki is trying and Izuku wonders if he cares at all. He remembers the sadness he had seen on Todoroki's face earlier, maybe he's having a bad day, though it seems less like a bad day kind of sad and more of a bone-deep sorrow. Izuku does his best to chalk it up to a fluke as Todoroki's routine ends and he's waiting, with that same dull expression, for the scores to appear.

Izuku is too busy pondering that expression to notice the screen change and it's Kacchan who knocks him out of his head.

"Oi, Deku! You asshole, I can't believe you beat the ice prince at floor." Izuku glances up to find a bright red forty-four glowing back at him. One point, but Izuku's stomach sours as he remembers how blank Todoroki's eyes had been and Izuku doesn't feel like he's won at all.

Maybe Izuku is reading too far into it, maybe he's only seeing his own loneliness reflected in the other boy's face, maybe it really is just a fluke.

Except, the same thing happens on the pommel horse, Todoroki scores just high enough to qualify for World Championships, but a point behind the highest score. Then it's the same for the rings and the vault, where Izuku manages to nab the highest score with Todoroki just two points behind, same bored, blank stare as before.

By the time they get to the parallel bars Izuku is fuming. He's thinking about how hard Shinsou and Kacchan train, how they always do their best, and try their hardest to WIN. He's thinking about everyone else giving it their all for the tiny chance they might make it to the Olympics. Todoroki not only doesn't seem to care, but also to be throwing the competition. He's all but guaranteed a spot at Worlds, but Izuku knows he's holding back and Izuku is, honestly, offended.

He's not sure if it's a sign that the Universe is working with him or against him when he literally runs into the boy while headed out of the bathrooms and back to the stadium for the last event, high bar.

"I-I'm sorry!" Izuku cries as he waves his hands around.

"It's fine." Then Todoroki is pushing past him and toward the bathroom.

The monotone of his voice scratches at Izuku's skin and words are barreling out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"It's not fine actually," Izuku seethes as he turns around and widens his stance, his hands curled into tight fists. "What are you doing out there?! We're all here doing our best to achieve our goals and go to the Olympics and you're not even trying! STOP MOCKING US! Do you even want to be here?!" Izuku is all but screaming, his breathing labored by the time he's finished.

"No, I don't." The bluntness of the statement stops Izuku's thoughts in their tracks. " Maybe once I did, but my father… he's… it's never been my choice. I was practically bred to be his successor. I've never been given the opportunity to enjoy gymnastics, I just do the routine like I'm taught and go to the competitions when I'm told. I'm tired of being his puppet, so I've decided if I have to make it to Worlds it won't be with the best score as he instructed me."

Izuku is surprised to hear the vulnerability in Todoroki's monotone and there's a hint of fear in his eyes when he talks about his father. Izuku's anger is dissipating as he remembers how sad and lonely the boy had looked earlier. He feels the familiar sting of tears at the back of his eyes and does his best to keep them at bay, suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that, actually, what Todoroki Shouto needs is help.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say, what words could possibly help the confused boy who stands before him. Just as the high bar is announced and it's time to go back to the stadium, Izuku is speaking, "Well, I think you should do your best anyway, whatever that means for you, not what it means for your father. I mean, you're going to Worlds anyway, might as well earn it. Come on, let's do our best! Plus Ultra!"

Todoroki looks surprised and maybe a little angry, but Izuku doesn't stick around to find out if he said the right thing. Instead, he's turning around and rushing out of the hall into the lineup for high bar, grateful when the line continues to fill up behind him.

His turn on the high bar flies by as quickly as the other events, losing himself in the rhythm of his body as he swings around the bar and executes backflips and aerials. His score is decent, but nothing to write home about. That's okay, thanks to his floor routine and his vault performance he is definitely going to Worlds.

Izuku doesn't see Todoroki again until he's mounting the high bar, last up for the entire day. His breath is caught in his throat and his leg is wiggling as he waits in anticipation.

Then Todoroki is moving and it's nothing like Izuku has ever seen. It's raw and wild and he's almost certain that Todoroki is improvising. There's sweat shining on his forehead as he swings weightless around the bar and then tosses himself into the air in a near perfect aerial twist, his hands returning with ease. It's strange and a little uncoordinated, but Todoroki's eyes are wide open as he throws everything he has into the routine.

The room is silent, as though the entire crowd is holding their breath, and there's a smile plastered to Izuku's face as he watches, captivated. Maybe he'd overstepped and said something he shouldn't have. Maybe Todoroki would never want to speak to him again. He thinks it's worth it when, for a moment, Todoroki is spinning in the air and the dullness lifts, clarity shining bright in his wet eyes.

Still, he hopes they can be friends one day, he'd like to get to know the strange, strong, graceful boy currently blowing the competition out of the water.

When it ends, Todoroki is panting as he stares at the sidelines, Izuku follows the turn of his chin to find Todoroki Enji seething in his coach's chair. The man is large and terrifying and something about the way he's glaring at Todoroki makes Izuku think of the way Todoroki had been favoring his right side just a little.

Then Enji's gaze is on Izuku and he's shrinking into his chair, uncomfortable at the careful scrutiny. He glances away, back toward the stage, and finds Todoroki's eyes on him. Izuku doesn't have a chance to react before Todoroki is looking away, up at the screen. His fists are tight at his sides and Izuku's own hands ache at the tension he sees before him.

It doesn't matter what they think, Izuku assures himself, wills Todoroki to hear his thoughts, it was amazing! Unorthodox, sure, it really depends on how conservative the judges are… Izuku is scratching his chin and considering the technical difficulty of the routine when the crowd erupts.

His head whips around so fast his neck aches and he looks to the mat where Todoroki has fallen to his knees, face in his hands. Then he glances to the screen and tears flood his face unbidden. Forty-eight. The highest score of the day.

In one moment, everyone is cheering and Todoroki is on the floor exhausted, crashing from the intensity of it all, in the next, he's being ushered off the stage by Enji, whose massive arms yank him up and all but push him toward the exit. Izuku's stomach flips as the crowd quiets and the bleachers begin to empty.

He sits and stares at the hall that Todoroki's dad had pushed him down until there's a warm hand on his shoulder and he's surprised to see his mother looking down at him with concern.

"Is everything alright, Izuku?"

"Ye-yeah, just an intense day, y'know?"

"That it was, my boy," says Yagi as he steps into view. "Excellent work today, you definitely announced yourself!"

Izuku smiles at Yagi's comment, the weight in his chest making a little room for pride as he practically glows at a job well done.

"Yes, congratulations, Izuku!" His mom interjects as she pulls him into a tight hug. "I'll make your favorite tonight in celebration! Now, go get changed, we'll meet you in the lobby."

The weight in Izuku's chest lifts a little at their enthusiasm and he finds himself smiling and nodding as he turns around and heads to the locker rooms with the promise that he'll be quick.

Izuku is just pulling his hoodie over his head, his wild mop of hair is still wet from the shower and hanging heavy in his face, when he hears the door open behind him.

"It's you." Izuku doesn't need to turn around to know who that voice belongs to and he's suddenly bashful.

"So-sorry! I'm just finishing up and I'll be going," he's still apologizing when he turns around and notices the fresh bruise on Todoroki's cheek, the skin just under his right cheekbone stained a little yellow and green. He's speaking before he can stop himself, "are you okay?"

Todoroki is looking away now, biting his lip hard, but he nods his head yes.

Izuku winces at that but doesn't pry and is grateful when Todoroki opens his mouth to speak, "I wanted to thank you actually. Your words reminded me that I did once enjoy what I do. I don't know if it's what I want, but I did enjoy myself."

Green eyes brighten at that and Izuku is gushing, "it was really incredible! I don't know how you managed to do it but it was totally innovative, I've never seen anything like it! And you have so much control even while improvising..."

A throat clears and there's a faint blush on Todoroki's cheeks as he thanks Izuku for his kindness. The pink brings Izuku's gaze back to the bruise. Before he knows it, he's opening his mouth and an impromptu idea is spilling from his lips.

"Hey," he wills his voice to be soft and encouraging. "Do you wanna play a game?"

He thinks he probably sounds very strange, but Todoroki is looking at him with nothing but curiosity so he continues.

"So, my mom used to play this game with me when I was a kid called Secret for a Secret. I'm pretty sure she made it up, but basically, the first person starts with a secret, big or small, and then the second person has to share a secret that's the same size."

Todoroki's gaze is careful as he listens to the rules, "that's… interesting."

"Yeah," Izuku begins and he's watching Todoroki's face closely as he continues, hoping the other boy understands what he's getting at, giving away a little more of himself than he'd like with the hope that he'd get through to him. "See, I was bullied a lot when I was a kid and a lot of it was my only 'friend,' so of course, I didn't want to tell my mom. She'd play this with me so that I would talk about it and that really helped." Todoroki's face is unreadable and Izuku panics a little. "Not that you have to tell me anything! It's a dumb game anyway, sorry I brought it up. I do think you should talk to someone though, even if it's not me. Oh god, I'm SO sorry…"

"Alright, I'll play," words stall in Izuku's voice when Todoroki speaks.

"You'll… play? Okay, yeah! I'll go first since I called the game."

He's met with a nod and he bites his lip as he thinks of a secret, a big secret, it has to be his biggest and he hopes it's big enough. When it comes to him his eyes light up just as guilt settles in his stomach.

"Secret for a secret," he says because that's how his mom always started, and then he holds up his pinkie. Todoroki only stares, one eyebrow raised a little as he meets Izuku's gaze. Izuku blushes and explains himself, "ummmm, it's a pinkie promise? You just hook your pinkie around mine. Ugh, I don't know my mom always did it, we don't have to."

Todoroki surprises him again when he feels a pinkie tie around his own. "It's a game, we should follow the rules," he says with a shrug and Izuku grins, a few of his nerves releasing with his next exhale.

"Okay, my secret is Yagi Toshinori isn't my dad, but he is my Coach."

"I knew it!" The brown-grey and ice blue eyes in front of him light up with triumph.

"I-ah yeah," His hand is scratching the back of his head as the blush returns to his cheeks and he's moving on. "It's a long story, but basically he doesn't want anyone to know he's coaching and it's also great for me because I'm not being constantly compared to him."

Izuku stops when he sees Todoroki's eyes darken, but all he says is "that's understandable." Then his face softens and he surprises Izuku for a third time. "It sounds like an interesting story, I'd love to hear it sometime."

The words come out like he really means they will be talking again in the future, close enough to tell each other where they came from, like they're real friends. The smile on his face is wide and hopeful as he nods. "Yeah, definitely!" His smile subdues as he looks at Todoroki and finds him wringing his hands in his lap nervously. "And you?"

Todoroki looks at him for a long time and, when he finally begins to speak, Izuku does his best to keep his jaw from dropping, but he knows his face is white and his eyes are glistening. He thinks Todoroki broke the rules, after all; this secret is much, much too big.

He speaks plain as day and matter of fact as he tells Izuku about his mother, an ice skater who took the Olympics by storm one year and then disappeared when her family practically sold her to his father after she rejected his advances. He tells Izuku about how much he loved watching old clips of Yagi Toshinori when he was very, very young, and how his mother had told him he could be anything he wanted. Back then it was to be just like Yagi.

It was the wrong thing to say and what followed were years of abuse disguised as training. Todoroki tells Izuku that Enji's cruelty drove his mother mad. Tells him that she poured boiling water over his ice blue eye because anything of his father's was unsightly. He explains that she was taken away from him after that, dumped in a psychiatric ward, and never spoken of again.

Tears stream down Izuku's face, but he doesn't notice them as Todoroki tells him that his father will only be satisfied when he beats the records set by Yagi and proves once and for all that he's better.

The ending is abrupt and Izuku is doing his best to stay calm and not panic at the severity of Todoroki's truth.

Sure, Izuku had been bullied and doesn't have any friends, but at least he has his mom and Yagi, even Aizawa cares about him in his own grouchy way. He doesn't know what to say, but his mouth is used to autopilot. "You should tell someone."

Anger flits across Todoroki's face before it sets into resignation, "I can't, he's too powerful and has too many connections. Besides I don't even know where my mom is and there are my siblings to consider. I will not put anyone else in danger when I can prevent it by being his tool."

Izuku groans in anguish at Todoroki's statement, "but you don't have to live like that, I don't care who he is, someone can help you!"

"Don't push it. It's not a possibility and I'd appreciate it if you didn't rub it in." There's a harshness to his tone, but Izuku is too far gone to care.

The crease in his brow and stiff line of his lips scream determination as he opens his mouth and effectively destroys their friendship before it ever really has a chance to begin. "If you don't, I will. He's clearly dangerous and I can't just sit around knowing how you're being treated and not do anything about it!"

An icy gaze meets his, but he doesn't back down. What is probably only seconds pass as the two stare at each other, a challenge. Something like the idea of an emotion crosses Todoroki's gaze and then he's throwing his arms into the air, "fine, whatever, do what you want. It won't change anything."

There's no time for a response, Todoroki walks away with his towel and the shower is turning on by the time Izuku wipes the snot and tears off his face and leaves the locker room, somehow more determined than ever.

He won't let Todoroki hope in vain.

His tears have finally dried by the time he makes it into the lobby, though he's sure his eyes are still red. He's relieved to see Yagi and his mom on the other side of the room. He's slinging his bag over his shoulder and taking a step towards them when someone says Deku, and it's certainly not Kacchan. He turns to find Uraraka Ochako next to him.

"Sorry, I'm kind of in a hurry," he says, glancing back towards his mom.

"Oh! I didn't mean to bother you, it's just, some of my friends and I are getting together later to celebrate and I was wondering if you wanted to come along? Congratulations by the way, I heard you did really well!" Uraraka's smile is wide and genuine as she speaks and Izuku finds himself smiling in return.

"O-okay! Maybe," he responds, "right now I really need to go!"

"Here," She says as she hands him a slip of paper, "just text me later if you want to come, we'll probably be out late."

"Thanks, I will!" He calls behind him. If he weren't on a mission he would probably be a blushing, awkward mess at the prospect of anyone wanting to hang out with him, let alone a nice girl like Uraraka. Right now he has more important things to worry about than his social life.

It seems to take hours to cross the room, people stopping him with comments and congratulations at every turn. He does his best to be gracious, but he's obviously in a hurry and soon, but not soon enough, people are catching on and leaving him be. Finally, his mom is there with the usual concern in her gaze as she takes in his red face. His voice scratches when he finally speaks and even Yagi looks worried at his statement. "I need to talk to you."

They usher him outside and the moment the car door closes tears are flowing freely from his eyes as his lips stumble over words that are almost too hard to say.

By the time he's told them everything his voice is no more than a whisper and his shoulders slump in exhaustion. "Please," he begs, "we have to help him."

His mom's sobs shake her shoulders as she cries into her hands, and there are even tears shining in Yagi's eyes, his usual bright smile replaced with a hard grimace. Izuku pulls his knees up onto the seat and wraps his arms around them. They sit without saying anything, the warmth from the heater doing nothing for the chill in the air.

It's Yagi who breaks the silence, "Of course," he says, his own voice hoarse over the unspilt tears in his throat, "of course we'll help him. Do you remember my friend Tsukachi? He's a detective and I'm sure he would want to help. I'll give him a call before dinner, if that's alright?"

Yagi turns to look back at Izuku who's resting his chin on his knees now. His eyelids are heavy and he's a little delirious as he stares, open and honest, at Yagi. All he wants to know is "do you trust him?"

"With my life."

It's all Izuku needs to hear, so he replaces his chin with his cheek and allows his shoulders to relax a little. The pitter patter of the rain on the window plays like a lullaby and Izuku is asleep before his mom has a chance to put the car in gear.

(He misses the meaningful look the two in the front share as they head back to the Midoriya's. It's sad, and proud, but most of all, it's determined.)

At first, Izuku asks at least once a day if Yagi's heard. The man begins to expect his texts, his response rehearsed as he reminds Izuku that it's a private case and Tsukauchi can't tell him anything, but has assured him that they are doing everything they can.

It's not enough, so Izuku watches the news, but there's never a word about Todoroki Enji. Distantly, Izuku remembers something about no news being good news, but he doesn't think it applies in this case.

Finally, his mom has to sit him down for a conversation about priorities. She knows it's hard and she wishes she knew what was going on too, but they had done all they could and had to keep living, so take a breath and move forward. Izuku does his best but Todoroki Shouto is always on the back of his mind.

He doesn't meet up with Uraraka and her friends the night of Nationals, he's too exhausted, physically and mentally, but she comes to mind before he falls asleep that night and he vows to text her before the week is out. He thinks he's long overdue for a friend.

They meet up for coffee after school. He doesn't tell her about Todoroki, it's not her business and he thinks it might be nice to have someone to hang out with whose not carrying the suffocating weight of worry. It is, and Uraraka turns out to be a great friend to have, she's easy to talk to and funny and Izuku is glad to have her around.

It's not that he forgets about Todoroki, but months pass and Izuku gets so wrapped up in finals, and extended training hours, and his new friends, that he may be more surprised than he should be when he walks into Yuuei one afternoon and Todoroki Shouto is standing there talking quietly with Aizawa. Or maybe he's just the right amount.

When Todoroki notices him, Izuku swears he can see a faint blush on the other boy's cheek as his lips turn up a little and he acknowledges Izuku with a tilt of his head. Izuku smiles wide and waves his hand like it's no big deal, like they greet each other all the time, before he turns around and heads to the locker room to change with a sudden lightness to his step as he memorizes the warmth of Todoroki's almost smile.

Izuku changes lightning fast and is out on the floor in no time. Todoroki is in the far corner stretching and Izuku hesitates before moving any further. It's not long before Todoroki notices and beckons him over with a wave.

They are both surprised by how quickly he arrives in the space next to Todoroki, setting down his bag and looking at the other a little like he'd died and come back to life. It's dramatic, but Izuku doesn't care, offers him a smile and a hello.

"You're a very surprising person," is Todoroki's response and Izuku's laugh is gleeful, he's so relieved and his heart is full to the brim seeing Todoroki okay and here and apparently still interested in being friends.

"I could say the same about you," Izuku chuckles a little, "but what makes you say that?"

"The last time we spoke, I was… I dumped my whole mess on you and then basically yelled at you for trying to help, but you still did and now…" Todoroki trails off as he considers how to continue. "What I'm trying to say is thank you. You are an amazing person Izuku and my family and I appreciate your actions so much."

Izuku is crying now, but his tears come easy and often, he's used to talking through them. "So, it worked? You got out?"

Todoroki really smiles then, it's brief, but his teeth show a little and Izuku's heart nearly bursts. "My sister, Fuyumi, got full custody of me and I'm living in her apartment. We're still fighting for my mom, but she's safe for now. I had to make a few concessions."

Eyebrows raise at that and Izuku urges him to continue, "he will continue to pay for her treatment as long as I continue to the Olympics. I countered and said I would agree as long as I got to work with Aizawa at Yuuei. He can't train me anyway, there's a restraining order."

"Yeah, Aizawa is a great Coach! You'll love it at Yuuei." Izuku seeps enthusiasm as he raises his fist into the air. "This is gonna be so great…"

"Midoriya," Todoroki interrupts before he can even begin, and, when Midoriya looks back at him, Shouto is holding out his pinkie and looking uncertain. "Secret for a secret?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate to hook his pinkie around Todoroki's and meet his gaze, the corner of his mouth turning up in an encouraging smirk.

Having set the game, Todoroki is struggling to look Izuku in the eye as he begins, "I requested Yuuei because I wanted to work with you, to make it to the Olympics by your side. You inspire me and helped me when I was certain no one could. I came to Yuuei because I hoped we could be friends."

One moment, Izuku's cheeks are tanned and freckled, the next they are beet red and a little too warm, but his response comes easily as he watches Todoroki fidget in front of him.

"My secret is that I hoped you would say that."

The look in Todoroki's eyes is open and earnest and Izuku meets it in kind. Too soon their conversation is interrupted by Aizawa's grumbles, reminding them that they are here to train, not socialize.

They hold each other's gaze for a moment longer before Todoroki's blank expression is back and he's turning and walking past Aizawa. His voice is toneless when he says, "I don't know about you, but I'm here for the food."

Izuku looks after him, baffled at the strange person that he'd accidentally befriended. Aizawa gives Izuku a look that screams 'I'm over this,' and Izuku breaks into a jog after Todoroki as he shakes his head with a laugh.

"Yeah, the food. Definitely the food." Izuku says, smiling like it's a joke meant only for them. He thinks that maybe it is.


	3. Shouto: More than Uncertain

Shouto's not sure if it's the morning light leaking into the room or the violent turn of his stomach that wakes him, but he's up with a start, groaning as he wills his eyes open and finds himself staring at the wall across from him.

Maybe he hadn't noticed the pictures there last night, but the gray light of the day bleeds in through the sheer curtains and casts shadows across the wedded couple in the images, darkens their eyes and leaves their smiles ghoulish.

Shouto, you idiot, he thinks as a shiver runs up his spine and he turns onto his back. He regrets it immediately when the bitter taste of bile and stale beer fills his mouth, and he's up and running for the bathroom before his mind has a chance to catch up.

He's glad he's practiced in quiet movement, his muscles recalling light footwork and a grace he hasn't had a use for in what feels like a lifetime. Maybe it really has been that long.

Finally, the door of the bathroom at the end of the hall is open and he's curled over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach and praying that Midoriya doesn't wake up and hear him.

His stomach aches and his throat burns but there's nothing left in him, so he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and flushes the toilet before standing on wobbly legs and shuffling back to the living room. His phone is waiting for him on the coffee table, so he taps the screen to check the time. Five am, no wonder he felt like he'd just been run over, maybe he's even still a little drunk.

For a moment, he considers crawling back onto the couch and under the covers until Midoriya wakes up. Maybe they could have a late breakfast and commiserate over their shared hangover. Shouto's thoughts are interrupted when he happens to glance back at the gallery wall. The faces judge him as they stare out of the shadows, wonder what he's doing here, wonder why he thinks he still has a place in Midoriya's life. He doesn't blame them, he's wondering the same things himself.

With a sigh, he spots his bag leaning against the side table, his shoes on the mat by the door, and decides he should go home before he embarrasses himself any more than he had last night. It was nice to see Midoriya, more than nice probably, but he doesn't let himself linger on the way his heart sticks in his chest or the floating feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with the alcohol. It's exactly why he'd left in the first place, he'd let the feelings overflow, nearly ruined his best friend's life.

There's a pounding in the back of his head and spots in his vision, his tongue is dry and his mouth tastes bitter, so he checks the address in his phone and groans when he realizes he's only four blocks from his own apartment. Of course, they're neighbors, and Shouto wonders at the fact that they'd never run into each other before. Still, if they'd avoided each other this long, it's logical to assume that Shouto can just slip back out of Midoriya's life as though last night never happened at all.

He's about to do just that, when he leans down to grab his bag and his eyes lock on the photo album sitting on top of the table. It's not the photo album itself that demands his attention, but the page it's open to, left out like someone was just looking at it and hadn't had time to put it away.

Shouto has never been particularly fond of having his picture taken, has always felt awkward in front of a camera, self-conscious of the scar that mars the left side of his face, but he'd always been defenseless when it came to Midoriya. So, when his best friend set those puppy dog eyes on him with a silent plea, Shouto acquiesced. They'd only ever taken a few and Shouto was sure those few had been lost to time and broken friendships.

They hadn't, Shouto realizes as his eyes map the images in the dim light. They are little more than blobs of color, Shouto's already poor vision swimming from not enough sleep and too much to drink, but he's seen them before, spent hours memorizing the soft curve of Midoriya's smile, his arm around Shouto's shoulder, keeping him close. He doesn't need his vision to see the roundness of Midoriya's cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open, mid-laugh as Shouto leans in close to whisper something in his ear. There's a picture from Worlds, sweat shining on their foreheads, Midoriya's smile painted on with pride and stretched from ear to ear.

Midoriya Midoriya Midoriya, it had always been Midoriya for Shouto and maybe it always would be.

The memories ignite a warmth in his chest as his heart beats a familiar pattern and, somehow, he forgets the judging eyes of the Midoriya's, and the pit in his stomach that had settled in the moment he'd heard Midoriya's voice from across the bar.

He doesn't let himself think about it too hard as he pulls a business card out of the front pocket of his bag and lays it on top of the open photo album. Right next to the picture from graduation; the one where Midoriya is giving Shouto bunny ears and Shouto is glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, his lips pulled up into the hint of a grin.

Before he can change his mind, he throws his bag across his chest, shoves on his shoes, and stumbles out the door.

It's cold, the brisk morning breeze biting at Shouto's bare arms as he wraps them around his chest and rubs his hands over his forearms in an attempt to warm them up. His teeth chatter, but the frosty air calms his stomach and wakes him up enough to make it the short walk home. He absolutely does not let himself think about the small white card that he'd left for Midoriya to find.

Maybe Midoriya would come to his senses, realize that he's better off without Shouto and never contact him at all. Maybe he wouldn't even find it and this would just be another goodbye, a sweeter memory to replace their last painful encounter. Maybe Midoriya would text him like nothing had ever changed. No matter what happens, Shouto doesn't let himself regret it as he wills himself down the street.

Doesn't let himself regret as the deep green of Midoriya's eyes from decade old pictures fills his vision.

Doesn't let himself regret as he makes it to his own doorstep and shoves his hand deep into his bag in search of his keys, the phantom sounds of Midoriya's laugh ringing in his ears.

Doesn't let himself regret as he plops himself down on his couch and closes his eyes, remembering Midoriya's quiet confession from the night before.

Doesn't let himself regret as "I'm glad I found you," plays on repeat in the dulcet tones of the love of his life and lulls him back to sleep.

Doesn't let himself regret until the sound of his ringtone beats against his skull and drags him back to reality. Bright daylight floods the room in hues of orange and yellow and his mind fills with dread as his first waking thought is that of a small, white card left behind for someone he should absolutely not see again.

He swallows hard against the pit in his throat and reaches over the side of the couch to retrieve his phone from the bag he'd left on the floor. His sister's face is smiling at him from the screen and he answers the call before he has too much time to think about it. Anything to distract himself from the overwhelming regret that has settled itself deep in his bones.

Shouto doesn't intend to tell Fuyumi about it, but the moment he accepts the call words are pouring from his lips like they'd been waiting to escape.

"Fuyuuuuu, I have a problem," he groans as he settles back into the couch, the phone perched between his shoulder and his ear.

"Shouto?" Her voice greets him with surprise and concern, "are you alright?"

"No," he says. Fuyumi doesn't miss the petulance in his tone or the hoarseness of his voice, and she giggles a little.

"Are you hungover? No way, Todoroki Shouto, perpetual hermit, is hungover on a Friday morning. Did you go out? Are you seeing someone?" Shouto's head is spinning so that he can hardly keep up with his sister's questions. He should've known he'd get the third degree, Fuyumi's always somehow had a sixth sense when it came to Shouto's mistakes.  
"Yes, let's not make a big deal out of this, please. Yes, I kind of went out, though I didn't intend to get wasted, and no I am not seeing anyone. I actually… I um… well I ran into uh…" Shouto's voice trails off and "I ran into Midoriya" comes out in the tiniest whisper he can manage.

Fuyumi hears him anyway.

"Oh, that's um.. That's interesting. Are you okay?"

Shouto wonders for a moment, unsure of the answer himself, before finally settling on, "I'd rather not talk about it," and hoping it's enough to quell Fuyumi's curiosity. It's not, he knows it's not, but she takes mercy on him and doesn't push it.

"Okay, well I'm here if you need to. Anyway, I was just calling to make sure we were still on for the farmer's market on Saturday. Please tell me we are, I need to get out of this house and Sora misses you."

As if on cue, Shouto hears a baby gurgle from somewhere in the background and he can't help but smile, his stomach chooses that moment to remind him of his poor choices and his voice comes out weak, "of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"Shouto? Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should call out?"

"Can't, I have a case meeting at one. Apparently, I was specifically requested, so I have to be there," he explains as his mouth begins to water and his skin grows clammy.

"Good thing it's only ten, get some rest and take care of yourself! You're not twenty-two anymore."

"Fuyu, I've got to go," his words slur together as his breath comes out in pants and he glances towards the bathroom door, "I'll see you Saturday!"

He drops the phone and races for the bathroom before she even has a chance to respond.

It's noon by the time Shouto manages to lean against the shower wall and allow hot water to pour over his aching body. It's enough to clear some of the fog from his brain and the sick from his stomach.

His morning routine takes him twice as long as he fumbles with the buttons of his shirt and the laces on his shoes, runs his hand through his still drying hair and surveys the dark bags under his eyes and the redness in his cheeks.

He doesn't bother to eat anything, doesn't have time really since he has to go back to the bar for his car and glasses before his meeting. So, he grabs a hair tie and a banana on his way out the door.

The Uber ride to the bar is uneventful, save the amount of time Shouto spends absolutely NOT thinking about Midoriya. His car sits lonely in the vacated parking lot, exposing his secrets in the fall daylight.

His black-rimmed glasses are waiting for him on the dash and he rubs his aching temple as he settles them on the bridge of his nose. Errant thoughts of green eyes, and wide smiles, and regret filter into his mind as he stares at the entrance of the bar, but he shoves them away and starts the car. The news is playing through the speakers and he turns the volume up until he can't hear those words, until he can't feel those judging eyes on his skin, until he's drowned out every thought in his pounding head.

Before he knows it, he's pulling into his reserved parking spot, the sound of the engine cutting off is enough to ground him as he startles back to the present.

Shouto has always prided himself in his ability to leave his personal life at the door when he comes to work, but that's easier said than done when there's usually no personal life to speak of. Still, by the time the person at the front desk is telling him that his meeting is waiting for him in his office, he has all but set aside the lingering taste in his mouth, the shades of green that fill his vision, the awful, mind-numbing regret that leaves his skin burning.

All of his careful work is proven worthless when he opens his office door to find his old coach waiting for him in the seat in front of his desk. Someone else from his past and Shouto wonders what he did to deserve a haunting. A lot, he thinks.

He's nothing if not professional though, so he nods at Aizawa as he takes his seat behind the desk and pulls the case report from his bag. The same one he had been trying to read the night before, had it only been last night? The concept of time is evading Shouto, moving both too fast and too slow, he's too tired for the fog in his brain and the weight in his chest. He shakes his head and looks up to meet Aizawa's bored gaze.

"Sensei," Shouto says, "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here."

"I haven't been your coach in ten years Todoroki, you can call me Aizawa." His black hair still reaches his shoulders, but it's graying in patches. The bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker, but the look in them is the same and he's just as perceptive as ever, it seems. "Do you frequently go on midweek benders or was it a special occasion?"

Shouto thinks he shouldn't be surprised, this is Aizawa, after all, the same man who had caught them trying to sneak out of the hotel at Worlds because he 'could see the guilt on their faces when they said they were calling it a night,' and then waited in the hotel lobby for two hours just to scold them. It doesn't stop the slight blush in Shouto's cheeks when he realizes he's been caught.

He's too tired to come up with a response so he says the first thing that comes to mind and goes with that. "I- um, no I don't. I… ran into an old friend last night and uh- got a little carried away." There's something strange in Aizawa's eyes as he watches him stutter over his explanation, but he doesn't respond, merely studies Shouto's face like there's anything there to find.

"Aizawa," Shouto continues, doing his best to distract the man from his search, "I'm sure you're aware that I usually receive cases through the police or my agency. It's very rare for someone to come to me directly. So, what brings you here? Besides pestering your former student about their private life?" It's rude, Shouto thinks, something like muscle memory from a time when the man sitting across from him had been his mentor and Shouto had been a flippant teen with a wry sense of humor. Maybe a little bit of that Shouto had stuck around.

Aizawa, for his part, seems unperturbed by the questions, perhaps he'd been expecting it, that is the Shouto he had known. "Still a brat then," he grumbles, but there's something like humor in the corners of his eyes and Shouto breathes a sigh of relief as he watches his gaze harden. "I have a student showing signs of abuse. I came to you because of your… experience." There's a knowing look in Aizawa's eyes as he continues, "something you would know if you had bothered to read the case file instead of getting drunk with your 'old friend.'"

This time, Shouto doesn't respond to Aizawa's prodding, it's probably just habit by now, anyway, and Shouto is too distracted by the sharp sting of a hand across his cheek, the ache of the air leaving his chest, and a fist meeting his gut. He inhales sharply and clenches his fists, grounding himself, even though he can feel the phantom eyes of his father glaring at his back.

He's all business by the time he manages to speak, his pen poised and ready in his right hand. "What's their name? Age? How long have you known them?"

"She's ten, just joined the program six months ago and tested into the upper division courses. She's good. Too good. The kid is talented, sure, but not that talented."

"You think she's being overtrained?"

"She frequently comes in with bruises on her arms and legs, sometimes on her face. Her hands are constantly bandaged, and poorly so, like she's doing it herself. Not just that, though," Aizawa pauses, seeming to search for the words to describe something that had, up til now, probably been a gut feeling, "she startles easily and doesn't speak unless necessary. She doesn't seem to care about, or even like, what she's doing, she's just… on autopilot and not at all interested in talking about it."

"What makes you think I can get through to her?"

"Her name. Tamashiro Akari."

Shouto is suddenly very aware of the reason that Aizawa sought him out specifically, "so her father is…"

"Tamashiro Raiden, won gold across the board at the 20** Olympics. Apparently dead set on his daughter following in his footsteps. It seems he enrolled her in the program so that she 'can scope out her competition,' starting to sound familiar?"

There's something stuck in Shouto's throat and he is suffocating, right there in his office with his high school coach sitting across from him, offering him something he's been dreading since the day he decided to go into social work.

Shouto has worked on all kinds of cases, worked with all kinds of hurt and scared children and young teens, but never one so close to home. Never a story that almost belonged to him. Some small voice in his head begs him to stay away, cries over the potential danger waiting for him in the folder underneath his folded hands. It's not that voice, it's something bigger, something braver, something still seeking to pay its debt, that fills his gaze with determination, looks Aizawa dead in the eyes, and speaks.

"When can I meet her?"

The next day, after Aizawa leaves with a curt goodbye and a plan for Shouto to come by the gym during practice on Monday afternoon, after Shouto manages to sneak out of the office for an early weekend, after he finally eats something and the pounding in his head becomes a dull murmur allowing him to fall into a restless sleep, Shouto wakes up still thinking about Tamashiro Akari.

He thinks about her as he steps onto the cool wooden floor, thinks about her as he brushes his teeth and pulls his hair into a loose bun, thinks about her as he sips his coffee and stares out the window at the fog rolling in. Thinks that it's not really her that he's thinking about, but himself.

(It's almost enough to distract him from the fact that he hasn't heard from Midoriya, but there's a nagging voice in the back of his mind that won't let him forget.)

It's certainly not the first time that Shouto has doubted himself, there have been countless children that he struggled to connect with, he's spent many a sleepless night pouring over research and therapy methods, doing everything in his power to get it right. So far, he has.

This time, though, there's more than uncertainty. There's fear lacing his thoughts, taking the face of a man he hasn't laid eyes on in over ten years. There's old anxiety leering over his shoulder, questioning how he could possibly offer her help. There's hints of green and tear-stained cheeks in the corners of his vision, but he refuses to acknowledge it, allows his insecurities to take hold.

How can he possibly show someone whose story so reflects his own that it could get better when his own life is an endless, monotonous routine of sleep, eat, work, eat, sleep? All he'd ever managed to do is destroy the love that had come into his life with the crook of a pinkie and unparalleled determination. Unparalled kindness. Was that even something Shouto was capable of? Maybe once, but isolation had set a film over his eyes so that his life blurs by in a series of greys and whites. Relentless, unending monotony.

There was once a time when he had been happy, a time punctuated by boisterous laughter and growing up, a time when it seemed like they had the whole world waiting for them. He never really deserved that though and maybe part of him always knew, maybe that's the part that had given him the resolve to walk away.

Now he's alone, and will continue to be alone, and it's no one's fault but his own. Him and his stupid, cowardly heart. Tamashiro Akari deserves better than him. Maybe he'd call Iida and see if he was interested in taking the case.

He's scrolling through his contacts when the sound of a car horn alerts him of his sister's arrival. With a sigh, he resigns to call his coworker later. Grabbing a jacket and his keys, he steps out into the muted orange light of the morning.


	4. Shouto: Feels Like Home

Fuyumi smiles and waves to him from the driver's seat before pressing her pointer finger to her lips and glancing at the baby carrier in the backseat. Shouto offers a small smile and nods in acknowledgment as he opens the door and gets into the car as quietly as he can.

The ride to the market is mostly silent as Sora naps. The classical station playing on the speakers is set to low, and the heater seems to be humming along to the tune.

Shouto uses the time to drag his thoughts away from the self-deprecating trail they had stumbled down. He stares out the window and counts the buildings as they go by, takes a deep breath and puts it away for later.

Sora is awake by the time Fuyumi has found a parking spot, but he seems content as he babbles at himself and waits for his mom to pull the stroller and backpack out of the trunk. Shouto studies his nephew's face. He has a shock of red hair, but his eyes are grey like Fuyumi's, and Sora is looking back just as intently. It's not long before he's decided he likes Shouto, if the bright, toothless smile on his tiny face is enough to go by, at least.

Shouto can't help but smile in return and, by the time Fuyumi has the stroller ready, they are old friends.

"He's very calm," Shouto says as he watches his sister buckle Sora into his seat.

"Yeah, we got really lucky. He really only cries when he needs something, but he's about to start teething and I hear that's a nightmare."

"Maybe he'll surprise you."

"I hope," Fuyumi offers as she leans over the stroller handle to tuck the soft blanket around Sora, "Emiko's going back to work next week and I'm a little worried he's going to decide to stop playing nice with just me around."

"He doesn't seem like that type of kid," Shouto offers.

Fuyumi tuts a little as she looks down into the stroller, a fond look in her eyes. "You really aren't, are you kiddo? No, you're the best baby," she coos at her son who responds with a gurgle of his own, happy to have her attention directed at him. Then she's side-eyeing Shouto, who shifts under his sister's scrutinous gaze.

"Anyway," she starts as she pushes the stroller toward the entrance of the market without so much as a warning, "you'd know that already if you came around more than once a year. We haven't seen you since Sora came home from the hospital- three months ago."

"I know, I'm sorry Fuyu, I've been busy w-"

"Working, I know. You're a busy guy, little brother, but your sister and nephew miss you."

Shouto doesn't respond, doesn't have a response beyond his usual 'I'm sorry, I'll do better, I miss you, too."

It's not a lie, really, he does miss Fuyumi, but she's the only one who knows, the only one he didn't leave behind. She doesn't know the details but knows enough that there is always a heavy layer of concern poorly concealed by the brightness in her eyes. It haunts Shouto, even if they never talk about it, hangs heavy in the air around them and stifles the conversation, leaves Shouto feeling awkward and exposed.

Fuyumi sighs and pushes a little more, even though she knows she's fighting a losing battle, "how are you, though, really? I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but, I've gotta be honest, you look awful."

It's the coffee cart set up just inside the market that saves him from fumbling through a response. He's still not ready to talk about it, especially since he hasn't received so much as a text from Midoriya, who he is absolutely not thinking about right now, so he answers her question with one of his own, "coffee?"

After a very pointed roll of her eyes, Fuyumi nods and steers the stroller toward the cart.

It's early and some of the vendors are still setting up, others making their final adjustments while the first patrons of the day filter in through the entrance. The smell of freshly baked bread and hot cider saturates the air around them as the muted sounds of selling and buying, and a busker, somewhere to their right, fills the awkward silence between the siblings as they wait for Fuyumi's latte.

It's not long before the barista is calling out Fuyumi's drink and the two are heading toward the open stalls in front of them. Shouto sips his coffee absently as his eyes browse over their contents, fresh vegetables are piled high in the first, another carries jars of honey in a variety of sizes, the next has handmade soap.

They're just browsing really, Fuyumi points out something interesting and Shouto nods in agreement. It goes on like this for nearly an hour before Fuyumi's had enough and sending another sidelong glance in her brother's direction, "so Midoriya, huh?"

Shouto groans.

"Are you two, like, actually talking again, or what?"

It's probably the bitterness that's been creeping in around the edges of his thoughts all morning that makes him say it. "Apparently no. I left my number, but I haven't heard from him." Fuyumi's eyes widen at that and Shouto immediately realizes he's said too much.

"Left your number… like you spent the night at his house… and left before he woke up… Shouto! You didn't!"

Shouto's face blanches a little at the implication of his sister's words and he's quick to correct her, "No. No, I definitely did not. I slept on the couch, just a friend crashing on another friend's couch, no big deal. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to TALK about," he says with finality and doesn't mention the incident involving the bar stool.

"Well, it was only a couple of days ago, I'm sure you'll hear from him… if that's what you want."

Shouto's not sure if it is. Mostly, he just wants his life to go back to the way it was before he had run into Midoriya, before he had found Aizawa waiting for him in his office. His life may have been mundane, but it's rapidly devolving into a giant mess of the thoughts, and feelings, and self-doubt that he meant to leave in the past.

Fuyumi's eyes soften and her voice is gentle when she continues, "Shouto, did you two talk about it?"

A lump forms in Shouto's throat as he avoids meeting his sister's gaze, but he's well-practiced in denial, so he swallows it down and opens his mouth to speak.

"Is that? It is! Izuku, it's the Todorokis!" A cheerful voice sounds from somewhere to Shouto's right. His body stiffens a little as he turns to greet Yagi Inko and her son, the current subject of their conversation.

Lucky for Shouto, Fuyumi is enthusiastic enough for the both of them, "Inko! Izuku! Funny we were just…"

"Just heading out, actually!" Shouto says and finally meets Inko's gaze, cutting his sister off before she can say too much. Fuyumi shoots him a glare, but doesn't continue.

Shouto doesn't dare look at Midoriya, but he can see him in his peripheral vision, can see him looking in every direction but his, can just make out the puffy red that rings his large, wet eyes.

"Oh, but you've been a Maekawa for ages now. This old brain," Inko says as she shakes her head a little. Sora chooses that moment to make his presence known and it's his happy giggle that finally catches Midoriya's attention. One moment he's digging his toe into the ground and doing his best to avoid Shouto's gaze, the next he's leaning over the side of the stroller, eyes wide and smile wider.

"Hi little guy," he says as he strokes the baby's soft cheek, "you're so big already!" Then, to Fuyumi, "Fuyuuuu he's so cute! The pictures you sent do not do him justice."

Fuyumi manages to avoid the betrayed look Shouto sends her as she joins Midoriya in gushing over her son.

Inko takes their distraction as an opportunity to look Shouto up and down before pulling him into a tight hug. While not usually one for physical contact, there's always been something about Inko's easy affection that Shouto finds warm and comforting, had at one time thought it felt a little like coming home. Maybe it still does.

When she pulls away there are tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, "Todoroki Shouto, it's been too long. Are you eating? Sleeping? You look thin," she says as she steps back. "A mother always knows, y'know."

Shouto balks a little at her statement, it was true once, Inko had practically adopted Shouto the first time that Midoriya had brought him home for dinner. She'd welcomed him into her home and her heart and he'd repaid her by disappearing for two years. Forever, if Shouto had gotten his way.

"It has Yagi-chan-"

"Oh none of that, I've known you since you were sixteen years old. It's Mom, or Inko if you must."

"Inko then. I apologize for my absence at your wedding," he glances at Midoriya as he speaks, notices the way he's being watched from the corner of the other man's eye, and doesn't offer any excuses, "I hope my gift reached you alright." He looks at his sister then, whose too preoccupied with Sora and Midoriya to pay him any mind.

"It did, thank you. We would've loved to see you there, but I know work probably keeps you busy. You've made quite the name for yourself."

A blush rises to Shouto's cheeks at the praise as Inko continues.

"Not working yourself too hard, I hope." There's worry written across Inko's face and it lands heavy on his shoulders, so he looks away at Fuyumi whose eyes are thick with pride as she watches Midoriya babble nonsense at the baby in his arms. The image fills his heart with something too big to give a name to and he doesn't realize he's staring until Inko is sidling up next to him and speaking in hushed tones, "you should talk to him."

The words startle him and he glances back at Inko to find knowing eyes staring back at him.

"He misses you, too."

"I- um- I don't…" He stumbles over the words in his mouth, fails to form a coherent sentence. Inko is way ahead of him, it seems, as a familiar determination sets in her brow and she's walking off toward the stroller without another word to Shouto.

"Izuku, don't you dare hog that baby!" She cries as she takes Sora from Izuku's arms and gives him a meaningful look, a slight tilt of her head in Shouto's direction.

The pavement under Shouto's feet is suddenly the most interesting thing he's seen all day and he trains his gaze down, doesn't even look up when a pair of well-worn red shoes enters his field of vision.

They stand in silence for a moment, neither knowing where to begin or willing to look the other in the eye.

Finally, Shouto opens his mouth to offer an apology at the same time that Midoriya says, "you left again. I thought.. well I just thought that... it doesn't matter. I'm sorry for bothering you. Mom saw you guys and wouldn't listen to me so, yeah. Sorry, we'll be out of your hair soon."

Midoriya's words are wet and sad, but Shouto can hear anger in them, as well. It's the anger that drags his gaze away from the pavement, allows him to look up where watery green is waiting for him.

"Bothering me? I assumed you didn't want to speak to me."

"Why would I… Shouto, you disappeared in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye." His words are bitter, like they've been waiting on his tongue for years rather than days, and Shouto thinks that maybe they have. Still, they are enough to bring clarity to the situation.

"You didn't find my card, then," comes out with a sigh, and all Shouto can feel is relief when the darkness in Midoriya's eyes lightens to something like hope.

The grin that grows on Midoriya's lips is a little sheepish as he runs his hand through the unruly curls perched atop his head. "Oh," is all he says.

There's no going back now, Shouto thinks. "Would you like my number?" He asks and is definitely not prepared for the wide smile that answers him.

"Yeah!" Midoriya all but shouts, and then, quieter, "yeah, that'd be great. Maybe we could get together for dinner? Something a little more sober this time, maybe. I think I'm still recovering from Thursday."

"Alright, dinner," Shouto says as he types his number into Midoriya's contacts and tries to ignore his pulse when it quickens. Just friends, he reminds himself, it's already more than he should ask for.

He doesn't have much time to reprimand himself because the sound of a baby crying interrupts the shy glances Midoriya is sending him. Neither knows what to say, but at least Midoriya doesn't hate him. Even if Shouto thinks he probably should.

It's Fuyumi's voice that ultimately draws their attention away from each other, "Shouto! Sora is hungry and I'm hungry. What do you think about lunch?"

"Yes, Izuku, we should probably be headed home soon. Your father's waiting for us," Inko chimes in.

The look on Midoriya's face is apologetic at first, and Shouto watches as his eyebrows furl like he's thinking too hard about something. He seems to come to a decision and pats Shouto on the shoulder before walking away with a promise to text him.

The goodbyes are over before Shouto has had a chance to collect himself, the spot on his shoulder where Midoriya's hand had been is still warm, even if it had only been for a moment. Inko pulls him into another hug and leaves with a pointed, "don't be a stranger."

Shouto doesn't make any promises, but he also doesn't miss the strange look Midoriya sends him before they part ways. There's something itching at the corners of it that Shouto thinks he's not supposed to see, a spark of something he won't let himself feel.

Sora cries all the way to the car and Fuyumi holds her tongue until he's fed and asleep in the backseat.

The question comes out as she turns the key in the ignition, though Shouto can tell it's been trying to escape since the moment they parted ways with Inko and Midoriya.

"Soooooo, how'd it go?" She asks as she puts the car into reverse and maneuvers out of the parking spot.

The phone in Shouto's pocket vibrates at that moment, alerting him of a text, and he doesn't have to check to know it's Midoriya. The thought pulls at the corner of his mouth and momentarily overwhelms his self-doubt.

"Well, I think," he says as he pulls out his phone and reads the message waiting for him, "I think it went really well."

Maybe it's too soon, Shouto thinks as he stirs the vegetables cooking on the stove top. They'd made dinner plans for the next day at Midoriya's insistence. Usually, Shouto spends Sunday nights at the gym, sweating his overworked thoughts away and allowing his body to take charge.

That's probably where he should be, if he's being honest. Better there than standing in his kitchen preparing dinner for two and worrying over his apparently never-ending slew of poor choices.

When Midoriya asked him where they should go, Shouto had been at a loss. Something about the idea of sitting across the table from Midoriya, eating dinner in a restaurant, felt too much like a date, too close to the fantasy that Shouto had long given up, so he'd offered to host. At the time, it seemed like a perfectly logical option.

Now, Shouto is very much regretting the decision for a couple of reasons. The first is realized as his eyes take in the bare, white walls of his too large living room, the lonely couch in the center of it and the TV shoved against the far wall. There is no art, no pictures of family or friends, no trinkets or souvenirs from the trips he'd never bothered to go on. Besides Fuyumi, Midoriya would be the only person he's invited over. The thought of the warmth that radiates from Midoriya's very being in this cold, empty place feels wrong to Shouto, but it's too late now. Midoriya is set to arrive any minute.

The second reason isn't realized until Midoriya has arrived, a bottle of wine in his hand and a smile on his face, "I know I said sober, but it's bad etiquette to come empty-handed. We don't have to drink it! You can save it for a house party or something…"

"Midoriya," Shouto says, doesn't mention the fact that he has never had a house party and has no plans for one in the future, "it's fine, thank you. Please come in." He takes the bottle of wine from Midoriya's hand and steps out of the door frame, "would you like a glass?" he asks as he heads toward the kitchen.

"If you're having one," Midoriya calls back from down the hall.

By the time he's stepping into the kitchen, Shouto has two wine glasses filled and waiting for them. "Hey, you didn't tell me we were neighbors…" Midoriya stops mid-sentence and his eyes widen when he sees the blank space that Shouto calls home. Shouto pretends not to notice the sadness in them.

"Your place is… big." Shouto winces a little at the statement, but it's not unkind or untrue.

"More than I need honestly, but I don't have the time to deal with a move so…" Shouto's voice trails off as he watches Midoriya wander into the living room and over to the sliding glass doors in the center of the west facing wall.

When Midoriya speaks again, his words are punctuated with enthusiasm. Leave it to Midoriya to find the silver lining. "Wow, look at this view! You can practically see the whole city. I bet the sunset looks incredible from out here!"

Shouto wouldn't know, is rarely home to see the sunset and when he is, he's too busy working to notice it. He thinks Midoriya's probably right though, and does his best to ignore the image that pops into his mind unbidden. Midoriya is simply stating facts, after all, and definitely not making suggestions.

Midoriya takes a seat at the breakfast bar that overlooks the kitchen and watches as Shouto finishes up the rice and stirs the sauce into the vegetables.

"It's not much," Shouto says, mostly for himself, "just stir fry."

"That's alright! Thanks for having me, I've been dying for a home cooked meal." There's something in Midoriya's words that he's not saying, a slight weakness in his tone that might've once inspired Shouto to hold out his pinkie and call a game that they were probably too old to play. Besides, Shouto's not sure that he wants to know, certain that the truth is going to sting.

So, "my pleasure," is all he says as he plates the meal and carries it over to the square dining table, a too-small island in a blinding sea of white.

Midoriya follows with their glasses and settles into the seat across from Shouto who gestures for him to dig in. He does just that and hums in appreciation as he chews. Shouto thinks it's alright, but he can't complain when Midoriya looks so satisfied and happy.

It's Midoriya who starts the conversation, as it had almost always been, "Hitoshi says hi, by the way."

"Oh? Is he still working with Aizawa at Yuuei?"

"Yep! Taken over most of the classes actually. I think Aizawa's planning to retire soon, but Hitoshi's in denial."

Shouto's not surprised, Hitoshi had always been Aizawa's biggest fan.

"Mmm, and he just got married!"

"Aizawa? Isn't he already married?"

"No, Hitoshi!"

Shouto's response is stopped in his throat as peals of laughter escape from Midoriya's lips. The sun is setting behind him and Shouto thinks Midoriya is right, it's a great view.

Very suddenly, Shouto is aware of the intimacy of having Midoriya alone in his apartment, eating the dinner he'd prepared. Shouto's losing himself in the way Midoriya is looking at him, in the fullness in his chest and the erratic beat of his heart. This, it turns out, is a very big issue.

When Midoriya's laughter finally calms, Shouto is unprepared for the searching look in the other's gaze.

"Aizawa told me he made an appointment with you about Akari."

"Oh," is all that comes out. This was not a subject he thought they'd cover tonight.

"I've been helping out in some of the classes, just on the side, y'know. Can't seem to leave the mat, heh. Well, anyway, I know you're probably not supposed to talk about it and I think he was actually trying to warn me? I guess I just wanted to make sure, do you… how are you feeling about it?"

Shouto's back stiffens a little at the question, but his expression remains blank. If it had been anyone but Midoriya they would believe him when he says, "I'm fine."

It is Midoriya, though, so Shouto's not surprised when he sees the other's eyebrows raise, "are you sure? Because the circles under your eyes BAG to differ."

"Was that supposed to be a pun? Rude and terrible." He says, sticking his tongue out, an old habit he'd forgotten to break.

"And you say I'm the rude one!" Midoriya throws his arms up in playful exasperation and the way the last of the daylight hits his face is almost enough to make Shouto forget the topic at hand. Almost.

"Seriously though, Shou," Midoriya continues as he refills their glasses and meets Shouto's watchful gaze with renewed determination. It's a little too familiar for Shouto's liking. "I know why Aizawa brought it to you, but if it's too much… you can say no. I'm sure he would understand."

Something about Midoriya's words has Shouto feeling defiant. Even though just yesterday he had decided to pass the case off to someone else, the thought that Midoriya thinks he can't handle it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. "It's fine, really. I'm meeting her tomorrow actually."

Midoriya doesn't look convinced, and a determined Midoriya is a relentless Midoriya, a fact that's been proven to Shouto countless times, and he sighs when Midoriya counters, "if you say so. I'm always here if you ever need to talk about it."

"I'll remember that." He says, and they finish the meal in silence.

Shouto is setting the dishes in the sink when Midoriya walks in behind him, "here let me help with those."

"No, no. Sit. You're the guest, there's only a few."

"Let me dry them, at least."

Shouto sighs, grabs the dishtowel from the counter and offers it to Midoriya who steps into the space next to Shouto. He thinks he might be standing a little closer than necessary. He holds his tongue, and his place.

The silence between them is punctuated by the clink of dishes knocking together and the occasional splash of water. Midoriya buzzes beside him, a million words on his mind, but none leaving his mouth. Waiting, it seems, for Shouto to take the lead, nervous that he'd pushed him too far. Though Midoriya's always worn his heart on his sleeve, his anxiety has always rested there as well.

The air around them is growing thick with tension and Shouto boughs under the weight of it, sighs, and decides in a moment of exasperation to break it. He finishes rinsing the plate in his hand and, before Midoriya can take it from him, brings his soapy hand up to Midoriya's face and leaves the bubbles there.

It's so quick Midoriya doesn't have a chance to react and time is suspended as they stare wide-eyed at one another, a pile of bubbles resting on Midoriya's cheek and water dripping from the ends of the curls that frame his face. The second hand moves again and two things happen in rapid succession as Midoriya sputters and then grins mischievously before shoving his own arm into the water and splashing Shouto with a tidal wave of bubbles.

Shouto responds in kind, and it only takes a few minutes before they are both sitting on the linoleum, backs against the cupboards, drenched and laughing so hard there are tears leaking from the corners of Midoriya's red-rimmed eyes and Shouto's ribs ache in a way they haven't in years. All of his worries escape with every boisterous gasp of air he inhales and the tension walked out the moment Midoriya responded with a splash of his own.

Here, like this, red-faced and soaking wet and feeling something like happy, Shouto forgets about the years that have separated them, and, for these few minutes, they are just two kids getting into trouble while Inko scolds them with a knowing smile from somewhere in the background. It's warm and safe here and, for the first time since he'd moved in, his apartment feels like home.

Maybe that's why, when the laughter devolves into sporadic giggles, and finally calms to a soft smile on Midoriya's face, and a fondness in his eyes, he says, "I am nervous… a little."

Midoriya's grin fades, but the brightness remains as he sits up a little taller and waits.

"I've- I've worked very hard to help as many kids as I can, but I've never worked with… it hits a little close to home."

"I thought it might."

"I just don't know if I'd be able to forgive myself if I can't help."

"Shou-" Midoriya's tone is gentle, but Shouto doesn't give him a chance to respond.

"I'm not exactly the best example of a recovering victim and I don't want to get any hopes up or say the wrong thing or scare her away, and I'm just so angry that this is happening."

"Shouto-"

"I keep seeing him and I can still hear him and I don't know, maybe I'm really not good for anything."

Shouto's thoughts are spiraling out of control even as Midoriya calls to him, but he can't see him, only the face of a man with fire in his eyes and a voice that burns. It's not until Midoriya is sitting in front of him, his left cheek cupped in his gentle palm and concern etched into his furrowed brow, that he realizes he's stopped breathing.

"Hey, hey, hey- Shouto it's okay, you're okay. Take a breath with me, okay?" He inhales deeply and Shouto grabs hold for dear life, latches onto the breath and lets the hot, heavy weight in his chest escape on the exhale. They sit there like that for a moment, Midoriya holding his gaze in his own as they breathe in unison.

Finally, he's filling his lungs without having to try so hard and Midoriya is still watching him carefully as he breaks the silence. "I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, Shouto, you are so much more than your father. You're amazing! Your last study on inherited trauma was groundbreaking!"

Shouto cuts him off with surprise in his widened eyes, "you read that?"

As though he's just realized he's been caught, Midoriya's cheeks flush pink and he brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching at his curls like he's always done when he's embarrassed about something. "I-well, yeah! I've read all of your studies, the published ones I can find at least. Mom's worse though, she has a whole binder at home, I don't even know if she reads them, she's just proud of you."

It's Shouto's turn to be embarrassed as the barest hint of red paints the tips of his ears, "oh- that's, that's very nice of both of you." He's not sure how to feel about the fact that two people who had once been family, who he'd all but run away from with his tail between his legs, could be proud of him. Simultaneously, his heart aches and warms over. Filling once again with that feeling that's something like home.

"Ah, yeah," Midoriya says, still a little sheepish, "anyway, that wasn't the point. Aizawa came to you because you are very good at what you do, if not the best -and don't you roll your eyes at me, I've been following your career for years- not just because of your unique uh- experience. I know it's bringing up a lot, but I also know that if it's what you want to do then you will do your best. You can help her, Shou, I know you can."

Shouto's eyes are wet and his jaw is slack by the time Midoriya is done speaking. Midoriya, who's always had an eery ability to say exactly what he needs to hear, whose eyes are wide and shining as he sets his lips into a straight line and dares Shouto to deny it.

He doesn't, manages only, "thank you," as the redness from his ears reaches his cheeks and he looks down at his hands in his lap. He doesn't look up as Midoriya slides across the floor to sit next to him, warmth radiating off of him as their knees bump together. It's enough for Shouto to relax his tight shoulders and lean a little heavier against the cupboard behind him.

"I've been.. Uh- thinking about going into coaching. Y'know, like full time." Midoriya's voice is small when he speaks, lacks the confidence that he had carried only moments before.

"Track? Or…"

"At Yuuei actually. Aizawa really is going to retire soon and Hitoshi asked me if I wanted to be his partner and GODS I just don't know. It sounds great, really great, but I have my students to think about and I wouldn't be making near enough to support Ocha and I, plus my ankle's never really been the same and I don't know, what if I'm terrible at coaching? Sure I'm fine now, but Aizawa or Hitoshi are always there, what if I have my own class and they hate me? What if mom's disappointed? She was so happy when I got my degree and then there's Yagi..."

"Who would be proud of you no matter what you do," Shouto cuts off the rambling that's already gone too far. "They all would, as well as me, but I don't think any of that matters. Midoriya, what do you want?"

His words catch in his throat as he stops his mumbling to look back at Shouto, "I- oh. I guess if it were just up to me, I'd say yes in a heartbeat."

"Then it sounds like you have your answer," he takes a breath and wills his voice not to waver as he continues, "what did- what does Uraraka think?"

"I- um- I haven't- we haven't talked about it yet."

Shouto does his very best not to feel victorious at the response, it's not fair and he knows it, but he's glad he's still the person that Midoriya can confide anything in. Even if his own biggest secret happens to be the elephant in every room the two occupy.

"You should," he finally settles on, "but you deserve to be happy and if I know anything it's that you will be the best coach Yuuei has ever seen."

Midoriya's laugh is a little dry, but Shouto relishes in the fact that he's able to pull one out of him at all, "don't let Aizawa hear you say that."

"Psh, Aizawa slept through ninety percent of the practices. All you have to do is keep your eyes open and you're already doing better than that poorly-disguised cat in a human suit."

"Shouto!" Midoriya's tone is admonishing, but his giggle is light and airy and sets something like helium balloons free in Shouto's stomach, even as he shivers.

"Let's get cleaned up. You can borrow something and I'll throw these in the dryer." Midoriya nods and bites at his bottom lip. Pulls Shouto's hand between his own before they stand.

"Thank you, Shou." It's quiet and nervous, and Shouto can see the sincerity in Midoriya's honest eyes.

"Of course," he says as he stands on wobbling legs and helps Midoriya to his feet.

He thinks that maybe, even if it still hurts, even if he's still a little more than a mess, he's glad to have his best friend back.

Hours later, once they'd both changed into clean clothes and Shouto started the dryer, after Midoriya suggested they start a movie while they wait, only for both of them to fall asleep fifteen minutes in, emotionally drained and comforted by each other's presence, Shouto wakes to a weighted warmth on his chest and a pain in his neck as a ringtone that is certainly not his own plays from somewhere to his left.

The TV screen fills the room with blue light so that he can barely make out the cell phone sitting at the opposite end of the coffee table from him. Before he even has a chance to consider turning it off or feel embarrassed for the position he'd woken up in, Midoriya lets out a soft curse and the weight on his chest is gone. He's not sure why he snaps his eyes shut and pretends to be asleep, but he does.

He doesn't 'wake up' when Midoriya answers the phone, holds his breath when he hears, "Hello? Oh hey Ocha, I didn't know- no I was watching a movie with… a friend and we accidentally fell asleep. N-no don't worry about it, I'm headed out the door right now. Okay. See you soon."

With all the willpower he can muster, he keeps his eyelids closed, even when the flood of salty water behind them threatens to expose him. Keeps them closed as he listens to Midoriya try and fail to keep quiet as he shoves his arms through his coat and his shoes on his feet.

He thinks he hears the door open and the tears are really ready to fall then, but, before they can, Midoriya's steps are growing louder as they approach him. There's a warm breath on his forehead only to be replaced by soft lips as Midoriya bends down to place a kiss on it. It's so gentle, meant for comfort, reminding him of the way Inko would sometimes steal a kiss to his cheek or forehead when she thought he was asleep. The thought almost makes him smile, but he holds it in until he hears Midoriya's steps growing fainter and the small click of the door as it closes behind him.

When he opens his eyes, the tears pour out and catch on his lips, which have curled up into a wide grin.

Yeah, it would definitely hurt, but he'd survive this pain every day for a lifetime if the consolation is Midoriya's uncanny way of making any place feel like home. He breathes a sigh of relief, and, when he inhales, a little bit of forgiveness finds its way in.


	5. Izuku: Eighteen and Broken Dreams

Time speeds up after that, the hands on the clock race around its face as the stark white of winter turns to pink when the cherry blossoms fall, and, before Izuku knows it, the sun is shining bright above them and warming him from the inside out. It's as though all those months spent waiting, nervous and hopeful that he'd done the right thing, are rushing to catch up with him and he can't help but wish that they'd slow down just a little so he might have the chance to savor his newfound friendships.

It doesn't take long after that first practice where Shouto appeared out of thin air and offered his friendship with a crooked pinkie, before they are sharing more secrets and study hangs and sleepovers. Shouto transfers to Izuku's high school after he and Fuyumi are settled in their small two bedroom only one neighborhood away from Izuku's own. The sleepovers become a regular occurrence after Shouto asks to stay at the Midoriya's when his sister has night classes. Izuku can't help the way his heart threatens to burst when he does because, though he might have been quiet and awkward about it, he asks and Izuku knows that it means Shouto trusts him and that is more than he could ever ask for himself.

Inko welcomes him with open arms and soon the two are practically inseparable and Izuku couldn't be happier. When Izuku learns that Shouto has missed out on what he describes as "quintessential childhood experiences," he makes it his mission to share as many as he can in the few hours they have between school and practice and supplemental training with Yagi, to which Shouto tags along, choosing to sit and watch at first and eventually joining in on both Yagi and Izuku's insistence. Izuku heaves a sigh of relief when Yagi tells him he's not upset at him for sharing their secret, not when so much good came of it in the end. (Izuku can't help the tears that fall when Yagi tells him he's a hero, does his best to stifle the voice that tells him a useless Deku could never be a hero).

They watch movies under a blanket fort, go to the park and try to go all the way around on the swingset, read comics with flashlights on Izuku's bedroom floor when they are supposed to be sleeping. Izuku is pleasantly surprised by Shouto's interest in superheroes and it's not long before he's introducing him to internet forums and they're having four-hour long debates on the pros and cons of invisibility or whether heroes should wear capes or not. It's fun, really fun, and Izuku can't believe that he's lucky enough to have a friend like Shouto, who is smart and clever, whose humor is often deadpan and biting, and who maybe doesn't often laugh, but when he does it's as though the clouds have parted and the sun is shining just for him. (And if Izuku maybe catches himself staring a little too long at the way Shouto's bangs fall just so across his forehead, or notices the way the light in Shouto's almost smile causes his breath to hitch, well that's for him to know. A secret he's not brave enough to share, even with himself).

When Uraraka invites him to the mall or the beach or a new cafe, Izuku drags Shouto along, and, with a little more effort, Shinsou, who he realizes may have been his friend all along. Uraraka invites her other friends, too, who are as warm and welcoming as she has always been and soon Izuku finds himself calling them his own.

Six months go by like that and soon they are standing on the mats at Worlds and Izuku couldn't turn down the wattage on his wide smile if he tried. The competition passes in a blur, cheers from the crowd encouraging him forward as he tumbles and spins and flies through the air. In what feels like a matter of minutes, he's standing on the sidelines, Shouto's hand in his, offering support as the room waits with bated breath to see the results.

The tears fall freely and the clock stills when it's his name listed after the number one, not Shouto, who landed a very respectable third, or Kacchan who glares at him furiously when he sees Izuku's name just one spot above his own. Shinsou hasn't made it, and Izuku can see the disappointment in his face even as he offers him a smile in congratulations. Then his brain is catching up and he is turning to Shouto and it's his voice whispering 'I did it,' and Shouto is nodding and smiling, and somewhere behind him, he can hear his mom and Yagi and Uraraka cheering louder than anyone else.

His mom takes them all out for dinner afterward and Izuku looks around the table and sees Kaminari looking like a walrus with his chopsticks shoved into his upper lip, Mina laughing so hard she can't breathe, Kacchan pretending not to be staring at Kirishima who seems to be having an enthusiastic, albeit one-sided, conversation with Shouto, who catches him watching and sends a small smirk his way. Uraraka is saying something to him and Shinsou is half asleep and his Mom's eyes are shining and wet and proud. Izuku thinks that if someone had told him just a year ago that he would be surrounded by warmth and friendly faces, that he would be headed to the Olympics with his best friend by his side, he would've told them to stop being mean. Yet, here he is, and part of him still can't quite believe his luck.

It's that luck that is pushed right over the edge when he goes to the movies with Uraraka and Shouto just two weeks after he swept the competition at Worlds. He thought everyone was going to be there and wonders at the way Uraraka's eyes harden a little when she sees him arrive with Shouto in tow. She's quiet as they buy their tickets and he can feel her eyes on him as they stand in the concessions line.

Shouto points to the bathroom and hands his popcorn to Izuku, shoots him a threatening glare, betrayed by the mirth in his eyes, "don't touch that, I'll be right back."

"I can't make any promises," Izuku responds with mischief in his grin as he brazenly pops a kernel in his mouth, "don't get lost."

Shouto shakes his head as he walks away. His shoulders shake a little as he does his best to quell his laughter at Izuku's antics, and leaves Izuku alone with Uraraka, whose barely concealing her annoyance by this point.

The moment the door swings shut behind Shouto, Uraraka's face brightens as she turns to Izuku and reveals the determination in her eyes. Izuku gulps.

"Is everything okay, Uraraka?"

She smiles and takes his hand in her own. Her hand is small and soft, a stark contrast from Shouto's calloused palm and long, slender fingers, and Izuku can't help but feel like he prefers the latter. "It is now," she says and Izuku frowns.

Uraraka doesn't give him time to argue, though, before she's turning to him with pink cheeks. Her voice is a little quieter than usual, wavering just a bit with nerves when she says, "ummm Deku, I was actually hoping it could be just you and me tonight."

"O-oh! I'm sorry! I figured we'd be hanging out with everybody…"

"No, no! It's okay, I should've made myself clear when I asked. It's just that- um- I wanted to tell you that… uhh well," she stands a little taller then and puffs up her chest as though the action will give her all the confidence she needs, "well Deku I like you a lot and I was wondering if you would go out with me?" She gasps a little at the end like she'd been holding her breath the entire time.

Izuku, for his part, is speechless. It's not that he doesn't like Uraraka, she's one of his best friends, one of his first friends, and they always have fun together. She's kind and thoughtful and brave, and thanks to her Izuku has more friends than he ever thought he could. He just doesn't know if he likes her like that and, when he thinks about it, it's Shouto's face that pops into his head.

Shouto staring at him wide-eyed just after a snowball knocked off his beanie and left snowflakes glistening in his eyelashes before amusement takes over his face, and Izuku's breath catches in his throat at the sight.

Shouto sleeping soundly on the spare futon in his room, lips parted slightly as air squeaks out through his nose, and Izuku is glad he's not awake to see the flush on his cheeks.

Shouto sitting a little closer than necessary as they marathon the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and Izuku hopes he can't feel the way his body shakes and his palms sweat with nerves.

Shouto smiling just for him and sending his heart into overdrive.

Shouto who has never shown any interest in dating and, even if he had, would certainly not share the feelings that Izuku is only just now, in this moment, realizing he has. Izuku's life is better now than he ever dared dream, and he wouldn't risk it over some dumb crush.

He thinks even if he maybe doesn't like Uraraka like that, he could learn to like her. Besides, he's too nice for his own good. As misguided as it may be, he can't help but feel that he owes it to Uraraka, whose never asked for anything but this, to at least try. (He maybe hopes a little bit that it will be enough to get him over the clearly inappropriate feelings he has towards the wrong best friend).

So he says yes, and her smile is widening, her grip on his hand is tightening and her other fist is raising in the air triumphantly just as Shouto exits the bathroom and makes his way to them. Izuku follows his eyes as he takes in the sight of the two of them standing there with beet red faces and intertwined fingers.

Uraraka breaks the silence before it has a chance to settle, "Hi, Todoroki! Deku and I are dating now!"

Somehow Izuku's face goes even warmer as he looks down and away from Shouto, unable to look him in the eyes even when he offers his quiet congratulations.

Uraraka thanks him and then the silence is awkward. Awkward enough for Shouto to say, "I'll just- I think I'll just get going then."

Izuku's head shoots up at that and he tries not to ponder at the light dusting of pink that sits high on Shouto's cheeks when he cries, "NO! N-no, you can't go. I drove us here."

He hears Uraraka huff a little under her breath, but it's Shouto he's watching, whose mouth is turned down a little, though Izuku thinks it's probably just his surprise and hopefully not disapproval for the relationship neither of them knew to expect. Then he's speaking and Izuku has to focus hard in order to hear, "well, we should probably get to our seats."

To his left, Uraraka nods her approval and then he's being dragged forward, Shouto right behind him, as they make their way into the theater and find the perfect spot, dead center in the fourth row.

By the time the previews are over, Uraraka is holding his hand tight in her own and resting her head on his shoulder. It's not uncomfortable, but he can't help but feel like it's a little wrong, especially when there's a voice in his head complaining that it should be Shouto's hand in his, Shouto's white hair tickling his cheek. It's a pipe dream though, so he sighs and leans into the touch a little. Tries to ignore the way Shouto sits so tall and stiff in the chair to his right, thinks maybe he's just anxious that things are going to change now that he has a girlfriend, doesn't admit how heavy the word hangs in his mind, promises himself he'll talk to Shouto about it later.

It's the credits rolling that pulls him out of his whirlwind of thoughts and makes him realize he had missed the entire movie. (He doesn't know it, but he's not the only one.)

He's struggling to stay present as they exit the theater, Uraraka chattering with excitement about how much she enjoyed the movie, Shouto offering a comment here and there, and Izuku uncharacteristically quiet as his mind works overtime.

They're standing the parking lot now, and he watches Uraraka shoot Shouto a look, to which he responds, "I'll just go wait in the car," and then he's gone and Uraraka is looking at Izuku with expectation in her soft eyes.

He doesn't know what to say, but she doesn't seem to mind, "I had a lot of fun, Deku. Let's do this again, maybe just you and me next time."

She smiles and he wills himself to return it, "y-yeah, that sounds nice."

Her eyes are bright and shining as she wishes him goodbye and then leans over and kisses him on the cheek, giggling a little at the way he sputters, and is gone before he has anything to say.

When he gets to his car, Shouto won't look at him and a pit grows in his stomach, leaves him feeling a little nauseous as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

The ride is silent as the city glows in bright neon against the dark night sky around them. He turns the dial on the radio, searching for something to fill the suffocating silence, and, when he's finally settled on a station playing Western classics, Shouto speaks up.

His usual monotone is a little stifled when the words leave his mouth, and to Izuku it sounds something like an accusation, "I didn't know you liked Uraraka."

Izuku shrugs a little, doesn't know what to say, can't bring himself to lie to someone who trusts him the way Shouto does. It turns out he doesn't have to say anything at all.

"You two are cute together, it's fitting."

Izuku chokes a little, but manages a small thank you just as they are pulling into his parking spot. Silence falls over them again as they walk up the stairs to his apartment and get ready for bed.

As soon as they're behind the closed door of Izuku's bedroom, cozy and warm in their respective beds, the floodgates open and Izuku's reassurances are flying out of him at top speed.

"Shouto I am so sorry, I didn't know Uraraka was going to ask me out and it all happened so fast, but I promise nothing is going to change. Well maybe Uraraka and I will go on dates now… but your friendship is SO important to me and I wouldn't give it up for anything. You're my best friend and…"

"Izuku," Shouto cuts him off mid-explanation, and Izuku looks up just in time to see the sad smile that he thinks is meant to be encouraging, "it's okay."

"It is?"

"Of course, I'm happy for you."

"You are."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"We-well I…" Izuku starts, but he doesn't know what to say without giving too much away.

"If it's what you want, then I'm glad. Uraraka is a nice girl, I'm not surprised she likes you."

His heart hums in his chest at the words, and he does his best to will away the hope that's rising in his throat at the implication that isn't there.

Shouto fills the empty space in the air when he doesn't respond, "anyway, we have practice tomorrow, should probably try to get some sleep," then he's rolling over so Izuku can't see his face.

"R-right! Goodnight, Shouto!"

"Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku tries to ignore the way the words are muffled by Shouto's pillow, or the miniscule sniffle that escapes at the end of them. Instead of sleeping, he spends the night feeling sick at the ache in his chest that threatens to suffocate him as his heart breaks and he promises himself, over and over, that nothing is going to change.

(He's not the only one who doesn't get any sleep that night.)

Izuku's kind of right, at first, nothing really does change. When they wake up the next morning, the bags under Shouto's eyes are rivaled only by Izuku's own and he seems to be back to his normal self.

At breakfast, Inko asks how the movie was and Shouto responds, "it was alright. Izuku was too busy cuddling with his new girlfriend to notice," and laughs a little when Izuki immediately turns bright red at the teasing.

He's too busy flailing to notice the confusion in his Mom's eyes as she looks between the two of them, her eyebrows raised as she inquires, "girlfriend?"

Shouto opens his mouth, but Izuku answers her before he can speak up, "uh, yeah. Uraraka asked me out last night."

"Oh! That's… nice." His Mom eyes are searching as she waits for an explanation, like she's expecting them to tell her they're kidding. When they don't, she continues, "and… that's what you want?"

Izuku's face burns and he looks down at the table, not across from him where Shouto sits, his own eyes watching Izuku carefully.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, it is."

She smiles at him then, and it's warm and congratulatory even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

They spend the rest of the morning in comfortable silence, except Izuku, who is trying to keep his thundering heartbeat at bay, to calm his nerves and act something like normal.

Eventually, summer turns to fall and, though Izuku does go on semi-regular dates with Uraraka, Shouto still stays over more often than not. They still go to the cat cafe with Shinsou, and the arcade with Kaminari and Mina, and argue for hours over which villains, if any, are most justified in their actions. If some days Shouto is a little quieter than usual, Izuku chalks it up to their ever-increasing workload, hopes that things can stay the way they are for just a little longer.

He finds that he likes dating Uraraka after all, and maybe even likes her, not in the all-consuming way that his stomach turns and erupts with popping candy when Shouto laughs and steals the last pork cutlet from his katsudon or when his eyes catch the light just so, but it's enough. She's kind and caring and patient when he tells her he wants to take it slow.

When she kisses him for the first time, he thinks it's nice, very nice. It's not the fireworks that the movies promise, but it's enough. The part of him that feels like it's wrong is growing smaller and he tells himself he's happy with the way things are. (Maybe not as happy as he could be, but he knows he can't have everything he wants.)

Things do eventually start to change, but not in the way any of them expect. If anything, he finds himself spending more time with Shouto as their practice schedules intensify in anticipation of the Olympics, as they apply for college, a backup for Izuku and the future for Shouto, and prepare for graduation. Everyone is busy, it seems, and there are no hard feelings when their group hangouts become few and far between, fizzling out entirely by the end of the school year.

Graduation goes by in the blink of an eye, Izuku hardly has time to register the sea of dark blue gowns, Kacchan's valedictorian speech, caps raining down around them as the crowd cheers. He does, however, catch Shouto staring at him softly when he thinks he's not looking. He doesn't know what to do with that, so he squashes it down and pulls him in for a picture; gives Shouto bunny ears and offers a wide smile to the camera in an attempt to hide the way he blushes when Shouto leans a little closer than necessary and tells him he's a dork with a whisper that tickles his neck and sends a shiver down his spine. (Ochako's busy with her own graduation, and he feels a little guilty that he's kind of glad she's not there because Shouto's always a little more Shouto when she's not around.)

By the time Spring hits, they are spending more time at Yuuei than not, icing aching muscles and wrapping supportive tape around weak joints. Practice is harder now than it's ever been, but even Kacchan's angry outbursts can't wipe the smile off his face, can't dim the determination in his heart, not with Shouto at his side, acting as his friendly rival and pushing him forward, to be better than he's ever been.

Too soon, or maybe not soon enough, October arrives in a flurry of cool air and falling leaves. The world is painted in oranges and yellows and browns as they board a plane and take off towards the single most important event in Izuku's eighteen years.

Midoriya Izuku is going to the Olympics and part of him still can't believe it, even as he stands in front of the building where, in only a few short hours, he would be competing for gold.

He looks to his left and finds Shouto smiling encouragement at him and he doesn't think twice before taking his hand and pulling them through the doors.

Izuku is immediately aware that something is not right when he feels Shouto stiffen next to him, his grip around Izuku's fingers tightening. It's not hard to find the source, Todoroki Enji has the kind of presence that suffocates a room, and Izuku sees red when their eyes meet and he registers the malice in the man's face as he watches them.

Izuku rubs soothing circles over Shouto's knuckles as he turns them away from the man and pulls him towards the locker rooms, "c'mon, Shou, we have to get ready."

Shouto is white as a ghost, but doesn't say anything, nods instead, and follows Izuku out of the lobby and away from his father's fiery gaze.

Izuku watches Shouto's face as he gets ready on autopilot, concern for his friend overwhelming any of the embarrassment he might feel. He considers texting Fuyumi, whose probably already waiting in the bleachers with his Mom and Yagi and Uraraka, but Shouto's phone is ringing before he makes a decision.

Shouto makes no move to answer, so Izuku picks the phone up off the bench and answers it when he sees Fuyumi's picture on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Izuku?"

"Um yeah."

"How is he?" Izuku looks up at that. Shouto is playing with the straps on his bag and doing his best to ignore his gaze.

"Um... " to Fuyumi, and then to Shouto, "It's Fuyu, do you want to talk?"

Shouto shakes his head no and Izuku nods in understanding.

"He says he doesn't want to talk."

Fuyumi's sigh is long and sad, "okay, just. Keep an eye on him? He's here and I don't want him coming anywhere near my baby brother."

Izuku nods and then remembers Fuyumi is on the phone and not in front of him, "don't worry, Fuyu. I've got this."

"Thanks Izuku, I know you do. Good luck to both of you! Plus Ultra!"

He smiles a little at that and then he's ending the call and looking to Shouto who is standing up tall now, maybe a little too tall, like he's doing his best to pretend his father's presence doesn't bother him.

"Fuyumi says good luck."

"Hmm."

"Shouto, it's gonna be okay. Nobody will let him near you. We can just ignore him. He's not going to publicly humiliate himself just to bully you."

Shouto's face doesn't betray his worry, having apparently reverted back to the expressionless attitude he'd carried when they first met, "It's fine, Izuku."

"Are you sure? Because…"

"I said, it's fine," there's a bite to his tone and Izuku flinches a little at it, unused to the way the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

"O-o-ohkay. Just- just know if you need to talk about it, I'm right here, I'll be right by your side the whole time."

Finally, Shouto's face softens a little and he looks Izuku right in the eyes as he says, "I know. Thank you," just a little vulnerable and only loud enough for Izuku to hear.

Izuku smiles wide against the anxiety threatening to cloud over his perfect day and takes Shouto's hand once again.

"Ready?" Shouto only nods and allows Izuku to pull him into the gymnasium.

They're announcing the first event by the time Izuku and Shouto are walking through the doors, the chatter of the crowd is dying down and it feels like all eyes are on them. When he looks up and to the right, he can just make out the face of his mom sitting next to Yagi, Ochako and Fuyumi seated to their left, in the dim light that hangs over the audience. It's the unwavering stare of the man sitting in the second row that calls his attention, and he can't help but glare as Shouto shakes a little beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the fear hidden behind Shouto's well-practiced blank stare. So, Izuku plants a smile on his face and offers a gentle squeeze of his hand in reassurance as he scans the room for Aizawa and Kacchan.

They're waiting for them on the sidelines. Aizawa's brows are furrowed in annoyance, but his worry is apparent to Izuku by the way he's watching Shouto. Even Kacchan's glare is subdued as he watches them approach.

Aizawa doesn't say anything and Izuku shakes his head at the questioning glance thrown his way, willing his coach to let it go with a silent plea. He's grateful when Aizawa holds his tongue and gestures to their seats. Izuku tries not to sigh too hard in relief, lest Shouto pick up on the nerves that Todoroki Enji's death glare ignites in him.

Shouto doesn't relax when they sit, straightening more in his seat as his hold on Izuku's hand tightens and leaves his fingers aching. Izuku can feel eyes on the back of his neck, and his skin prickles as goosebumps raise there, doing everything in his power to focus on the gymnast performing on the pommel horse and not the intense concern he feels for his best friend.

Izuku's glad he's only scheduled for two events today. Try as he might, his anxious brain is too distracted, begging him not to leave Shouto's side for a second.

It's Shouto who is up first, and, when he stands to take his place, Izuku whispers "plus ultra" with determination in his eyes, pretending like it's any old competition and Shouto's father hadn't shown up and inspired fear in Shouto's usually cool demeanor.

Shouto doesn't look back while he stands up tall next to the pommel horse, taking a breath and preparing himself. Anyone else wouldn't notice the minute tremble in his hands as he takes his beginning stance, but it's all Izuku can see, leaves him holding his breath and biting his nails.

When Shouto begins his routine, his movements are calculated and robotic, as they were the first time they met, before Izuku had the chance to knock some sense into him. Izuku's heart breaks as he watches Shouto whip his legs around the pommel with no passion. The whole thing feels as hollow as the pit in his stomach.

By the time it's over, Izuku's nails are jagged and torn, even as the crowd cheers and Shouto's score is announced. It's relatively high, but not enough to put him in the ranks for a medal. It's not long before he's slumping back into his chair and Izuku is reaching over and taking his hand. They sit in silence, broken only by the exhale Shouto releases at the comfort of it.

Izuku thinks he should be paying more attention, it's his first Olympics after all, but the day goes by in a blur. He's too preoccupied with keeping an eye on Shouto beside him and sending the occasional hard glare over his shoulder when the itch on his neck starts to burn. Todoroki Enji be damned, he wouldn't let him ruin this.

His name blares over the loudspeaker as they call him to stage for vault. It knocks him from his reverie and he looks around at his team before stumbling to his feet. Shouto offers him a half-hearted thumbs up and it's enough to push him forward to the mats and his first event of the day.

His mind is racing as he prepares his stance, but when he glances over to check on Shouto one last time, he sees that Aizawa is standing behind him, effectively blocking Enji's view. Shouto's shoulders relax a little and it's enough to reassure Izuku. With a deep breath, he clears his mind and begins.

Anxiety blooms into anger and he uses it to propel himself through his routine, sticking every landing just a little harder than he'd practiced. It's over quick as always and his chest heaves as he waits for them to announce his score. It's very good, and there's pride dancing with the resentment behind his eyes as he heads back to the sidelines.

Shouto's up next and his performance is much the same as the first. Izuku doesn't blame him, understands that he's protecting himself, but it's still hard to watch. His score is better than the last, but he doesn't seem to care as he looks back at Izuku with a plea in his eyes and Izuku shoots him the widest smile he can muster, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

Then, vault is over and the crowd holds their collective breath as they wait for the results on the screen. It's not Shouto whose taken bronze, but Izuku, and, for a moment, Shouto is smiling at him with pride in his eyes, Todoroki Enji momentarily forgotten in lieu of his best friend's success.

From somewhere behind him, Ochako shouts, "I love you, Izuku!" and his face burns bright red at that, guilt seeping in and overwhelming him when he considers the implication of saying it back when he maybe, sorta, probably doesn't feel the same. (Later, much later, after he's left the hospital, and given up on a now impossible dream, and his life is just a little bit back on track, she tells him it's okay if he's not ready to say it back. Tells him she didn't mean to just blurt it out like that, she just got carried away by the excitement of the room and the pride she felt for her boyfriend when he was awarded the bronze for an event that was far from his best. He says it anyway because it's not entirely untrue and he thinks Ochako is enough to make it feel a little less like settling.)

It's too loud to hear the sharp inhale to his left when she says it, but he wouldn't know what to do with that information anyway. He shoves his torn emotions aside and looks back to the stage where floor is starting. Shouto seems to be feeling a little better, if the slack grip he has on his arm is anything to go by, and he lets himself relax into his seat, attempts to calm himself before his turn is up.

They're calling him to the mats before he has a chance to register that three other gymnasts have already come and gone. He's in a daze as he takes his place and his eyes search the crowd to check on Shouto before he raises his hands up into a V. When he finds him, he pales a little at the towering figure standing above him, hostile scowl barely visible in the low light. Aizawa is nowhere to be seen, but Kacchan is saying something to the man, putting himself between Enji and his son, and Izuku sends his thanks without words and hopes it's enough.

There's no stopping now, the music starts and he takes his first leap.

Izuku is struggling to remember his footwork as he tumbles through a routine he'd perfected over the last year. The practice wasn't enough to prepare him for the overwhelming voice in his head imploring him to STOP and HELP, and, for the first time, the adrenaline coursing through him doesn't quiet his thoughts. He's twisting through the air when his eyes catch on Enji, who has his large hand on Shouto's shoulder and is pushing him away from the stage, toward a dark hallway. Izuku sees another dark hallway, purple and yellow skin framing an ice blue eye, and he panics. His heart stutters as his form falters and, when his feet find the mat, he stumbles and falls awkward and painful with a loud crack when he lands with all his weight on his left ankle, the one that had endured a minor sprain only eight months ago.

The crowd gasps in unison, and Izuku looks up to see Shouto watching him, eyes wide and full to the brim with concern. Enji stands behind him, frowning at Shouto who has stopped in his tracks, waiting to see if Izuku is going to get back up. Izuku's response is a smile that's really little more than a grimace as tears prick at his eye and he tries to stand. This time, he can't contain the high-pitched yelp that escapes when he puts weight on his left foot and collapses.

He blinks and then Aizawa is on the mat next to him, asking him something he can't hear. Honestly, he's not listening, instead staring past Aizawa at the hallway he'd just seen Enji shove Shouto down. He doesn't have time to feel disappointed, doesn't recognize his own voice calling after Shouto as he's loaded onto a stretcher and rushed to the hospital.

His mom rides in the ambulance with him, Yagi and Ochako already headed to the hospital. He can hardly feel the pain of his ankle save for the pounding in his head as the image of Shouto, scared and hurt and alone, flickers in his mind's eye. The paramedics are saying something to his mom and machines beep around him, but he's lost in a haze and growing increasingly frustrated with himself. It was a stupid mistake, leaving Shouto alone with Enji nearby.

He doesn't remember passing out, and it's disorienting when he wakes up in a hospital bed, his foot bound in a cast and elevated above the bed. The events of the day come back to him and he groans a little as he opens his eyes and takes in the room around him.

Before he has a chance to wonder if Shouto is okay, a familiar head of white hair catches his eye from the chair to his right. He's sleeping, one elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, chin resting in his hand as he frowns a little and doesn't stir. Izuku breathes for what feels like the first time that day and then notices his mom seated across the room in the only other chair.

It takes a moment before she realizes he's awake. When she does, she's up on her feet and rushing to his side, tears falling silent down her face as she tries to hide the pity in her gaze. Izuku knows as soon as he looks in her eyes and sees it there, it's over.

"Izuku, my baby. How are you feeling?"

He checks Shouto one more time before swallowing down the fuzz in his throat and croaking out something like "okay."

His mom's shoulders slump a little, "I was so worried."

"I'm sorry Mom, I didn't mean- I don't want to let anyone down."

"Oh, Izuku.. It's okay. We are so so proud of you. I know you did your best." She brushes the curls from his forehead and presses a wet kiss there.

"Mo-mom, h-how bad is it?"

His Mom's frown is brief, but he catches it before it's gone and replaced by a kind smile that's just a little artificial.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetie." He holds his breath and tears at bay as he waits for her to continue. "It's a bad tear. You'll have to have surgery, but with your previous injuries… even with physical therapy…"

Her words trail off, but he knows where they're headed, would be lying if he said he hadn't known the second he'd crumpled onto the mat. His one chance and he'd ruined it himself before he could make a name for himself. (He can't help but think he's not entirely upset about it, at least not as upset as he might've been a couple of year ago, not with Shouto safe and asleep in the chair next to him.)

He doesn't respond, lets his tears speak for him, and, when they fall, his mom pulls him into a tight hug, drowning his sobs with her comfort.

A hoarse voice calls his name, little more than a whisper, and Izuku looks up to find Shouto awake and watching, eyes shining wet as he searches his face.

The warmth of his mom's embrace is leaving then, "I'll go let the others know you're awake," and then she's gone and Shouto is dragging his chair up to the side of the bed and pulling Izuku's hand into his own.

"How are you?" they say in unison, and Izuku laughs a little, wet and soggy, and then looks at Shouto expectantly.

"But you're…"

"My ankle's not going anywhere, just-please. I just need to know you're okay."

Shouto smiles a little, "I am."

"Your father- I saw him dragging you away."

"He was trying to intimidate me into going for gold, said our arrangement was null and void if I didn't win."

"But that's.. He can't."

"I know, told him as much. Finally made use of that loophole."

"So… your mom?"

"I went to the Olympics, didn't I? Fuyu and I have to make some arrangements but she'll be out of the hospital by the end of the week. Gods, it's finally over. It doesn't even feel real."

The upturn of Izuku's lips is genuine for the first time that day and his eyes shine bright as he recognizes the relief laced through Shouto's words.

That's… that's amazing, Shouto! I'm so happy for you. How did… how did the rest of the events go?"

Shouto bites his lip and averts his gaze, "I don't know actually, I um, left shortly after you did."

"Oh," Izuku manages, tries to push down the guilt crawling up his throat.

"I wasn't- after I talked to my dad I realized I didn't care anymore and you were- I needed to know you were okay." Izuku understands, it's the same mindset that had landed him in this bed, even if it stings a little. There's silence for a moment as reality begins to set in and Shouto seems to read his mind when he asks, "are you?"

Izuku doesn't have the chance to answer, doesn't really know how anyway, when the door opens and his family and friends pour into the room. Ochako gasps and runs to him, wraps her arms around his neck and weeps into his shoulder. There's pride swimming in the sadness in Yagi's blue eyes as he stands off to the side and Fuyumi is smiling gentle and apologetic.

It hurts. Not his ankle, thanks to the painkillers in the IV that pierces the back of his right hand, but the knowledge that he would never have another chance to fulfill the dream he'd been running towards all his life, the guilt that he's let everyone who helped him get here down burns in his throat. Except that, here, surrounded by the warmth and comfort and encouragement of the unconventional family he's gained over the last two years, he's reminded of the unexpectancy of life, how sometimes the twists and turns can be for the best, even if it doesn't seem like it at first.

He watches Yagi place a reassuring arm around his mom's shoulders, feels Ochako take his left hand and Shouto's in his right, sees Fuyumi take the seat next to his bed, and knows even if he's not okay right now, with their support, he will be.

So he catches Shouto's eye and nods, a small smile breaking through his tears. Shouto gives his hand a squeeze and the resolve in his gaze feels like a promise. Shouto's not going anywhere, and, with him by his side, Izuku thinks he could take on the world.

(A/N: Everybody thank Cadameo for the incentive to get this chapter out! A great example of how much a single comment can motivate me, so please comment if you are enjoying it and would like to read more!)


	6. Shouto: A Pinprick of Light

**(A/N: Following a brief bout of angst we've got... fluff! A surprising amount of fluff! AND we got to meet Akari, my first OC in fanfic and I really hope you like her. Shouto and I sure do.)**

The clock on the dash reads 1527 when Shouto pulls into the mostly empty Yuuei parking lot. It's set five minutes ahead, a habit he'd picked up from Midoriya during their Freshman year at university. For once, his heart doesn't sink at the errant thought, but it does pick up its pace a little, beating at double time in his chest. He thinks he might prefer despair over the sickly butterflies waking up in his stomach.

He's fifteen minutes early to his meeting with Aizawa, his nerves, ignited by both this specific case and returning to Yuuei, having gotten the better of him. So, he leaves the radio on even after he's turned off the engine and hopes it distracts him from the large gray building that somehow looms over him even though he's at least two hundred feet away from the entrance. Truthfully, like all of the other things he's tried to leave in the past, Shouto didn't think he would ever find himself in this particular parking lot again, especially considering he drives three miles out of his way during his commute to work just to avoid the three-story gym, the ivy growing up the left side (green as Midoriya's eyes), and the outdoor track that Shouto can't see from where he sits, but knows is still around the back next to the poorly kept garden.

The radio host's voice is low and soothing, but not enough to drown out the echoes of laughter and footsteps on pavement, the ghostly afterimages of two boys racing across the lot, kicking up flurries of snow around them. The dark-haired one has a smile on his face to rival the sun and the other can't stop staring, maybe he doesn't know why yet, but it won't be long before he's lost the one chance he doesn't believe he ever really had. He remembers the way his vision had gone white, the slight sting of ice on his cheek, and Midoriya's beet red face, right hand covering his mouth as he tries to stifle his laughter behind it. Somehow, he still manages to look worried but doesn't have a chance to apologize before Shouto is running at him, colliding with him full force and knocking them both down into the snow.

Shouto watches them wrestle in the middle of the empty lot, his body going cold and warm simultaneously as it recalls how his snow-soaked jacket steamed a little when it came into contact with his overheated body. Then, they're a little older and the sky is painted blue above them as Midoriya gesticulates wildly and Shouto shakes his head, his lips pulled taut in amusement. On days like that, the light would hit Midoriya just so, and Shouto couldn't really meet his gaze without risking giving too much away. Giving it all away. Now Uraraka is there with them and he's trying not to glare at the way their arms swing between them, fingers intertwined, as they walk a few steps ahead of him, or how bright Midoriya's eyes are when he looks at Uraraka and he's trying so hard not to be upset, shouldn't be really, but his throat is dry and his head is spinning and they aren't really paying any attention to-

knock knock knock

A sharp tap on his window breaks him from his spiraling reverie and he jumps a little at the sound, turning his head to find Aizawa staring at him through the driver side window. With a sigh, he rolls it down and meets his gaze with expectation.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to come inside or sit out here and stare at the building all day?"

Shouto huffs and glances back at the clock, 1552. It seems he managed to distract himself too well and now he's two minutes late. All he offers in response is a nod of his head as he pulls the key from the ignition and reaches into the backseat for his shoulder bag. He's out of the car and locking the doors by the time Aizawa is speaking again.

"Since you'll just be observing today, I'll tell the kids that you're here to help with technical skills, so feel free to interact with them as you please. There'll be ten of them today and I'll point you in Akari's direction when she arrives. Though I doubt you will have any trouble picking her out from the crowd…"

He's only half listening as they pull open the double doors and step into Yuuei's impressive entrance. The locker rooms are down the hall to his left and the gym is to his right. Muscle memory has his feet leading him down the left hallway, but Aizawa takes the right, so he follows him down the corridor, picking up a word or two here and there as he does his best to keep his breathing steady.

"... I have a couple of extra hands on deck so you can focus on your observation." As if on cue, Shouto's eyes fall on a familiar head of wild curls standing in the middle of the gym and speaking in hushed tones with a much older, but still apparently exhausted, Hitoshi.

Midoriya's head turns in their direction as they enter the gym and Shouto watches his furrowed brow relax into a wide smile punctuated by the light in his eyes as he lifts his arm to wave at Shouto. Just like that, Shouto is sixteen again and nervous for a whole different set of reasons. He hasn't spoken to Midoriya since he'd left the night before, but the kiss still feels like home as it lingers on Shouto's forehead and leaves him feeling whole, even if he's not willing to admit it to himself yet. There's also still that slow-shrinking voice telling him to run.

In the end, it's Midoriya's enthusiasm and Hitoshi's small grin and nod of acknowledgment that are enough to propel him toward them. (He misses the knowing look that Hitoshi and Aizawa share, but Midoriya doesn't, and, by the time Shouto reaches them, he's managed to will the color in his face to a dull pink.)

"Hi!" Midoriya practically shouts as he pulls Shouto into an easy hug like he used to do when they frequented these halls and things really were easy. Mostly. Shouto stiffens a little at the contact, suddenly aware that this is the closest they had intended to be since he ran into Midoriya at the bar. Needles prick at his skin, but he wraps his arms around Midoriya's waist anyway, holds him tight for a moment, then let's go and steps away while he still can.

"Cat dragged you in, I see," Hitoshi says and pats Shouto's shoulder in greeting. Shouto glances over and meets the humor in Hitoshi's eyes with a wry grin of his own, watches the way Hitoshi glances at Midoriya, "or was it the puppy?"

"Compelling puppy," he says with a shrug, face blank as usual as he catches Midoriya out of the corner of his eye, doesn't miss the way his eyes widen just a little and the pink on his cheeks grows hot. "I'm here for work actually."

Midoriya cuts in at that, his eyes set in determination and a grin pulling his cheeks tight, "that doesn't mean you can't have some fun! Where should we start? Cleanest landing? We'd need a third party to judge. Maybe Shinsou can…"

Maybe it's the smell of rubber mats and disinfectant in the air; perhaps it's the afternoon sun shining through the skylight and casting familiar shadows on the walls and equipment; it might be because something about this place is making him feel young and brazen like he'd once been; it doesn't matter what it is, really, the words run away from him before he has a chance to catch them.

"Still too scared to take me on vault?"

"N-no! I just-"

"Thought you'd have a chance because you know I'm out of practice?" There's laughter tickling his throat, but he keeps his lips in a straight line, his eyes blank as he watches Midoriya squirm.

"Well, I…"

"I knew it!" A little bit of the laughter leaks out onto his lips and pulls at their corners as Midoriya's eyes widen and Shouto is enjoying the way the teasing comes easy, so he says "you cheat!"

For a moment, nobody responds. Shouto's nerves itch at the quiet and the way Midoriya's eyes seem to be analyzing him like he's no longer talking about gymnastics. It's startling then, when Midoriya throws his head back and laughs before continuing with a smirk, "I'm the cheater? Sheesh, thought you'd have it easy challenging the guy with the bum ankle? Joke's on you! I still hold the record for most landings stuck consecutively!"

Shouto rolls his eyes, but he's smiling through his glare, "sure, a record you set when you were seventeen. Definitely holds up," he crosses his arms, leans in a little and opens his mouth to continue when the familiar sound of Aizawa clearing his throat startles him. Shouto isn't convinced he hasn't gone back in time when muscle memory kicks in at the sound and his mouth snaps shut, his shoulders straighten, and he turns to face his teacher's bored gaze. He doesn't see Aizawa though, or the doorway full of curious wide-eyes, and laughter stifled behind fists as they look between Midoriya and himself.

It's the set of calculating, blue ones belonging to the girl standing a few steps away from the rest of their audience that catches his attention. She's at least a head shorter than the rest of her teammates, her right forearm is wrapped in an ace bandage from wrist to elbow and there's a faint, yellow bruise on her jaw that almost matches the blonde of her tight ponytail. He doesn't have to be told to know he's looking at Tamashiro Akari. Her glare meets his eyes and he realizes he's staring. He turns his attention to the rest of the group before he can make her any more suspicious than she already looks.

The lingering laughter leaves the building then as Aizawa fills the awkward silence, "if you two are done?" The rise of his eyebrows says they are, so Shouto and Midoriya nod in unison and Hitoshi folds his lips over his smile. The whispers of the students quiet as they straighten their posture and give Aizawa their full attention.

"Alright class, this is Todoroki Shouto," he says, gesturing in Shouto's direction as he speaks. Shouto watches as a few sets of eyebrows raise, he's not surprised at the recognition, he'd once made quite the name for himself in the gymnastics circuit and his father was a legend in his own right. Still, being under the scrutiny of ten pairs of eyes causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Especially since he knows he's being watched. He chances another glance at Akari who hasn't moved or stopped glaring at him since she had arrived. Lucky for him, he's practiced in keeping his cool in nerve-wracking situations, but the look on Akari's face is all too familiar and he can feel his facade starting to crumble.

Even luckier, Midoriya is there, and can apparently still read the minutest change in Shouto's mood, so, when he feels calloused fingers and a heavy palm slide into his own, he latches on for dear life and relaxes into the support that Midoriya offers so freely as Aizawa continues.

"He's a former student of mine, you may recognize him from the 20** Olympics. Competition season is just around the corner and some of you," Shouto follows Aizawa's gaze to a tall, brunette boy in the front row who is grinning sheepishly at the statement, "still have a lot of work to do before you're ready. Todoroki is going to be helping with technical evaluations for the next few weeks. Leave him alone unless he offers instruction and if he does, listen to him. He's one of the strongest gymnasts I've trained…"

Midoriya's grip on Shouto's hand tightens a little at that and out of the corner of his eye he can just see an encouraging smile rounding his cheeks and bringing out the freckles that dot them. His chest swells a little at the sight and he's almost caught sending Midoriya a smile of his own when he realizes that Aizawa has stopped talking and is looking at him- they're all looking at him- expectantly.

Any semblance of thought he may have had in his head disappears as he blinks at them owlishly and wracks his brain for a coherent sentence. When nothing comes, he settles on an awkward, "plus ultra!" with a fist raised in the air like he's seen Midoriya do countless times and hopes it's enough.

It is, apparently, and the room fills with cheers and whoops as the students respond with a "plus ultra" of their own. Well, all of the students save one small, blonde girl with round cheeks and a stare that could turn a person to ice.

Aizawa raises an eyebrow at him and Shouto's not surprised to see amusement in his tired eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get to the station you were working on last practice and start stretching. Your bodies aren't going to train themselves!"

Just like that, the doorway empties as the teens rush by Shouto so fast that his hair blows a little in the wind their speed creates. Then, Midoriya's comforting grip disappears from his and he does his best not to wilt.

A hand on his shoulder startles him a little, but he's able to maintain his composure as he cranes his neck around to find Hitoshi looking back at him.

"You can sit over there," he says, pointing at the small set of bleachers in the far right corner of the room.

"Thanks," Shouto replies with a nod, Hitoshi offers him a small smile before heading to the parallel bars where a girl with chin-length, pink hair is kneeled on the floor with one leg out in front of her, stretching her hamstring. Shouto watches for a moment before walking to the bleachers and taking a seat.

As soon as Shouto is settled in his seat with his notebook open in his lap and pen poised and ready, he scans the room for Akari's small frame. It doesn't take him long to find her doing back handsprings on the mat in the middle of the floor. Her technique is nearly perfect, but Shouto is not surprised to find that her expression is painfully bored when she's not glaring suspicious daggers in his direction. It would be easy to chalk her disinterest up to the mundanity of the warm up, but Shouto has seen that look before, in the mirror, staring back at him, and he knows the feeling that comes along with it are not impatience for what's to come, but an apathy for the work itself.

Her handsprings turn into complicated aerial flips and he watches close as she favors her left arm a little over her bandaged right, sees the barely there wince when she lands on her left foot first. When Todoroki Enji's face threatens to draw his attention from Akari, he does his best to wave it away, fight it off with all he's worth. It's not the time nor place for a panic attack, so he concentrates on his breathing and continues his observation.

Thirty minutes later and Akari is still on the mat, working on her footwork now. Though she's clearly injured, he knows it's not enough to open a case without her cooperation and her behavior thus far is enough to remind him that a confession won't come easy.

It took a twist of fate and the fierce determination of the strongest, strangest boy Shouto had ever met to get him to open up that day all those years ago, to throw a wrench in his father's carefully laid plan and free Shouto from the chains that bound him to a life he hadn't chosen.

Lucky for Akari, that same boy was, and is still, a walking inspiration, and had long ago taught Shouto that, mostly, giving up isn't an option, and, right now, it's not. Not when those eyes are looking at him with a stoicism so familiar that he really does feel he's been transported back to a time before Midoriya Izuku broke down his walls and forced him into friendship. It's in that moment he realizes she's caught him staring again. Subtle as he can, he turns his attention to the opposite wall.

It's a mistake, he realizes almost immediately, when his eyes land on Midoriya on the pommel horse, demonstrating proper technique to the black-haired boy standing in front of him and offering pointers as he performs the moves at a slowed-down pace. His biceps are straining from gripping the handles and his shirt rides up a little bit as he twists his body around in slow motion. Shouto's cheeks heat up at the sight and he's not convinced he doesn't have a fever as warmth pools in his belly. Midoriya has somehow grown up to be even more beautiful, his chubby cheeks having given way to a strong jawline and there's laugh lines etched into the corners of his eyes and his short body is all toned muscle and Shouto wonders how he is just now realizing this.

He's unconsciously biting his lower lip when Midoriya dismounts and instructs the boy to give it a try. It's enough to distract Shouto from the train of thought he had unwittingly bought a ticket for, and Shouto finds himself critiquing the boy's form along with Midoriya. He seems to understand the basics, but his moves lack grace and he looks disappointed when he finishes and hops off the horse. Midoriya's smile is encouraging and the room is too loud for Shouto to make out what he's saying, but when the boy tries again there is marked improvement. Still not perfect, but it's smoother. Midoriya's whoop is loud enough for Shouto to hear and he can't help but smile along with the boy when Midoriya ruffles his hair and has him try again. And again. And again.

Before Shouto knows it, Aizawa is calling for the end of practice and the boy is twisting around the pommel horse like he was born to do it. Shouto smiles a little to himself at that, he knew he was right, Midoriya is an amazing coach.

He chances one last glance in Akari's direction, but she's already gone and his shoulders slump a little. The first few days of any new case are touch and go, but, based on Akari's appearance when she showed up today, he'd prefer to expedite this one as much as possible. Unfortunately for him, bruises and a sore leg won't constitute as proof. That's the trouble with being an athlete, it's easy to chalk injuries up to the sport rather than the power-hungry abuser that actually put them there.

"So, how'd it go?" Shouto startles at Midoriya's voice to his left and turns to find eyebrows curved high over green eyes. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

Shouto dismisses the apology with a wave of his arm and tries not to focus on the bead of sweat running down Midoriya's neck. "It's alright, I was just thinking. It went as well as I expected it to. I've got a lot of work ahead of me."

Midoriya's brow knits in determination at that, his lips drawn into a thin line. "I'm here if you need anything. You don't have to do this alone, Shou. Even if you just need someone to sit with you, you can count on me!"

A tight smile finds its way to Shouto's lips and "thank you" is all he manages.

"But how are you? Hanging in there? It's probably strange to be back here. I know it was weird for me…" When Shouto's eyebrows raise to his hairline at the comment, Midoriya flounders to correct his statement. "A GOOD strange, of course. It's nice to have you around."

Shouto relaxes a little, "I'm fine, it was certainly... interesting," he settles on. The image of Midoriya on the pommel horse lingers in his mind's eye, but he shakes it away and changes the subject, "You did a great job with that kid."

"Aw yeah, thanks. He's got a lot of potential, but I think his nerves hold him back."

"Hm sounds like another dark-haired kid I used to know."

A blush paints Midoriya's face at that and Shouto is drawn in a little closer by the radiance of it, "ha, I guess so. Maybe that's why I was able to help him."

"...or you're a better coach than you think you are."

"I- I… um." Midoriya is flush from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears and Shouto doesn't realize he's leaning in until Midoriya is sputtering an incoherent response and Shouto is so close he can count the freckles on Midoriya's apple cheeks.

With a blush of his own, he straightens and looks around the room to find, fortunately, that they are alone. Midoriya's red face darkens as he side-eyes Shouto who lets nostalgia take over and smirks in response, all false bravado even as his heart jumps in his chest when Midoriya squeaks and looks away. He's pleased to learn that it's still that easy to tease Midoriya.

(He doesn't acknowledge the implications of the interaction, or how, for just a second, when Shouto leaned in close enough to feel Midoriya's breath on his face, Midoriya's pupils widened and he chanced a glance at Shouto's lips. It's too good to be true and Midoriya is married.)

It's Midoriya who interrupts that particular downward spiral and, for a moment, Shouto doesn't know what to say. "A-anyways! I usually grab dinner or a drink with Shinsou and his husband after Monday practice. Would you maybe like to join us?" Yes, he would like to, is the truth, but the rational part of his brain, the part that is barely hanging on by a thread, begs him to say no, reminds him that he's been spending an awful lot of time with Midoriya and it would inevitably end in tragedy, like it already had.

Still, it is Midoriya, so, before he can think about it too hard, he's nodding and Midoriya is smiling wide and his eyes are bright and Shouto thinks he'd say yes a million times over if only to keep that look on Midoriya's face.

"Great! I'll just go change and meet you out front!" He starts to walk away but spins on his heel after a few steps, "actually, would you mind giving me a ride? I took the bus here."

Shouto laughs at Midoriya's sheepish grin and nods again, "of course, Midoriya. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

Midoriya balks at Shouto's laughter, his eyes wide and glossy and his mouth slightly agape as he walks backward away from Shouto. He only makes it a few steps before he trips on air, darkening the ever-present flush on his face. Before Shouto has a chance to react, he's spinning around and running out of the room as quick as his feet will take him.

With a shake of his head and a few stray giggles, Shouto gathers his things and heads for the exit.

He's sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the low murmur of voices on the radio as he jots down a few final notes while he waits for Midoriya when a sense of deja vu settles in his gut at the sound of someone knocking on his window. When he turns, he finds Akari staring at him. Her brow is drawn tight and her cheeks are red, clearly angry about something. Even though she is nearly two feet shorter than him, Shouto gulps and slams his notebook shut before rolling the window down.

He schools his expression into what he hopes is a welcoming smile and looks at her expectantly, "yes?"

Deja vu threatens to suffocate him when she speaks, "are you having an affair with Deku?"

It's an accusation, and Shouto's face drains of color as he's transported back to a different auditorium, sees green eyes set against pink cheeks, hears a wild accusation from his own lips.

His reaction isn't much different than Midoriya's had been, "I- what? No! Why would you… what?"

Akari's expression softens a little, but her gaze is still hard and her voice is blunt, "you were holding hands and he kept looking at you with these big heart eyes AND you spent most of practice drooling over his abs." She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him pointedly, "he's married, y'know."

Shouto swallows hard and searches for words, ignores the 'big heart eyes' comment, and responds, "ah, no. We're just old friends, I've known him and Ochako," and he absolutely does not wince when he says her name, "for a really long time."

Just like that, Akari's anger dissipates, but it's replaced by a soft sadness and there's a brightness in her eyes now that Shouto can only read as excitement, "Oh! So it's a tragedy then. Have you always been in love with Deku? Is this a Heathcliff and Cathy kind of situation or no… maybe it's Rick and Ilsa. Would that make Deku Ilsa… it could be…"

Her voice trails off as she mumbles about people Shouto doesn't know and it reminds him so much of Midoriya that he almost laughs. "Who?"

That seems to catch Akari's attention and the excitement in her eyes grows, swallows the sadness there until she's almost smiling. This Akari is nearly a complete one-eighty from the girl with the impenetrable scowl on her face and boredom in her eyes. "Wuthering Heights? The classic romantic tragedy played out in the moors of Scotland? You've never read it?" Her expression is incredulous, jaw dropped and blue eyes wide and sparkling, as he shakes his head no. "Okaayyy, Casablanca then? Surely you've seen the great American classic starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, a story of star-crossed lovers meeting again amongst the turmoil of World War II? Tell me you've seen Casablanca!"

"I- no, I can't say that I have…" Akari throws her arms up in the air and huffs, while Shouto does his best to hold in his laughter. Tamashiro Akari is full of surprises.

"THIS is a tragedy! What have you been doing with your life?"

"My childhood was rather sheltered." It's a practiced response, one he uses precisely in situations like this when he can't give too much away yet.

"Well, you're missing out." She says as she starts pulling something out of her bag, "here, start with this one." With that, she tosses something into Shouto's lap, a book, he realizes belatedly. Wuthering Heights, the title reads over a black background. A haunting image of a woman wrapped in a shawl and some interesting geometric shapes make up the rest of the cover and Shouto tucks it into his bag next to his notebook.

"Anyway," Akari starts, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear and training her calculating eyes on him, "have you been in love with him for a long time or is this a recent development? Would you say you love him with a burning passion or is it more, like, soft? What do you love most about him? Have you…"

The questions overwhelm Shouto, so he cuts her off before she's finished her list. "I'm not- what makes you so sure I'm in love with him?"

"Oh COME ON." She says with a roll of her eyes, "you don't have to lie, it's really obvious. Like when he grabbed your hand you totally relaxed AND you were so soft when you were watching him. Well, when you weren't undressing him with your eyes."

Shouto's eyebrows raise at that and he wills the blush not to rise in his cheeks as his heartbeat picks up at the prospect of being caught, "are these novels you're reading age appropriate? That's a little much for a ten-year-old."

"Hmph. I'm old for my age."

"I can see that."

"Could you please just answer my questions? It'll help me figure out what kind of tragedy we are dealing with here."

"I'm standing by my earlier statement."

"You asked me why I think you're in love with him, which is not a denial."

"Well, I-"

"Hey, guys?" Midoriya's voice cuts him off as he opens the passenger side door and gets in. "What's up?"

Akari looks between the two of them and shoots Shouto a final, knowing look and dramatic roll of her eyes, "just read it and let me know what you think."

Shouto nods and watches as she walks back to the bench in front of Yuuei. Tamashiro Akari is not who he thought she was and he's grateful that her will hasn't been broken yet, that she's still passionate about something. For the first time since he'd agreed to the case, since he'd run into Midoriya, really, Shouto feels something like hope. Akari doesn't know it yet, but she just handed Shouto an in. It's a way to connect with her, potentially even a ticket to her own freedom.

"What was that?" Midoriya asks as Shouto turns the key in the ignition and puts the car in drive.

"A break, I think," is Shouto's response. There's a blush creeping up his neck as he pulls out of the parking space, but he's breathing a little easier now that there's a pinprick of light shining at the end of the tunnel.

 **(A/N: Even though he's mostly a disaster, Shouto really does want to do a good job.**

 **Well, this is actually only the first part of the chapter that I had planned, but- those dumb boys would not stop flirting and my asexual ass is over here like... y'all I don't know how to write that. I hope I did okay?**

 **Plus we have quite a few time skips and a big** ol **' whopping dose of angst coming in the next chapter, so I thought it would be a little more palatable to break this one in two.**

 **Join us next time for a surprising connection, more friendly reunions in bars, and Shouto realizing Izuku might be holding back some important information.**

 **Thank you for the comments, follows, and favorites! Your excitement feeds mine and this thing would be long over without it. SO please, continue if you want to keep reading. Y'all are the best.)**


	7. Shouto: To Live Only in This Moment

**(A/N: Thank you for your patience, my friends! Another short one and an explanation at the end. Hope you enjoy!)**

"... so I told Fuji-san that I needed the library for my third-period class every Monday this month, even wrote it out on the whiteboard in the teacher's lounge. Well, I show up today with my whole class in tow, only to find Fuji-san's world history class already there! And you know what he said to me?"

"Hmm?" Shouto hums in response as he idly sips his scotch. He's only caught about half the story, too distracted by the erratic movement of Midoriya's hands as they punctuate every sentence, the stray curl sticking up in the front that he has to fight not to reach over and tame.

The polished cement floor glistens in the late afternoon sun, and voices echo in the large open room so that Shouto has to lean in a little to hear what Midoriya's saying. He doesn't mind, it's an easy excuse when the truth is that he's always felt Midoriya's gravitational pull, drawing him in a little closer than necessary. It doesn't help him pay attention, though, so he sets down his glass and focuses on the words coming out of Midoriya's mouth- and definitely not the pucker of his lips when he pauses to sip his own drink or the way his tongue darts out a little right before he runs off on a tangent.

"...and when I got to the staff room, he'd crossed my name off the schedule. Didn't even bother to erase it! I don't know what I did to him, but he's had it out for me as long as I've been working there."

"Sounds like his problem," Shouto offers and Midoriya pauses his rant and puts his pointer finger on his chin, his eyes far away like he's thinking hard about something.

"Maybe… I've tried everything! I even brought in some of Mom's scones, but apparently, his kindness can't be bought with delicious pastries."

Shouto's eyes widen at that, "What! No one can resist Inko-san's baking, are you sure this guy's human?"

The giggle that erupts from Midoriya bubbles in Shouto's own sternum. His eyes are big and bright and green as ever and Shouto can't look away, trapped in his seat in an overpriced bar. His mind is on autopilot as he hears the tinkling bells die down and sees those eyes soften. Shouto is doing his best not to read into the tender way that Midoriya is looking at him, but he knows his expression mirrors Midoriya's, can feel the heat in his own cheeks when pink blossoms on Midoriya's.

The million things he's never said, not really anyway, hang heavy in the air around them, until scissors cut them from the ceiling and they land on the tip of his tongue. Midoriya holds his gaze and Shouto feels warm and safe and it's enough. It's too much really, and before he can stop himself he's opening his mouth.

"Midoriya, I…" Midoriya's eyes are glistening in the yellow light, and he leans in even closer, his voice little more than a whisper when he responds.

"Yes?"

"I-" A cool gust of wind blows in when the door to the bar opens and it feels like a slap to the face. Shouto's head clears and the reckless words dripping from his lips are forgotten as he sits up straight in his seat and glances around the bar like he's been caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

(He misses the downturn of Midoriya's lips and the sour disappointment that falls over his face. Chalks his own near confession up to the empty glass in front of him.)

"I- I'm gonna grab another. Want one?" Midoriya is gone before Shouto has a chance to answer, the familiar fluff of his hair lost in the sea of chattering patrons.

Shouto shakes his head and rubs at his temples as he falls into a slouch. He's glad for the reprieve, even if there's a little bit of disappointment caught in his throat.

Cool air blows his bangs off his forehead and draws his attention to the opening door of the bar. There's a broad-shouldered man walking through it, and, when Shouto registers his face, he sits up with a start and shields his own from view with his hand as he turns away from the door.

He shouldn't be that surprised really, it's an upscale bar around the corner from his office. He's never been here himself, but it seems like a popular spot for the young professionals in the area. In fact, what had surprised him was the moment on the ride over when he realized Midoriya was directing him to this part of the city, there were plenty of bars in the neighborhood surrounding UA that would be more fitting. Midoriya had only shrugged and said "Hitoshi and Tenya like it," which was surprising, but not impossible, so Shouto left it.

A blush heats the tips of Shouto's ears as realization dawns over him and he slowly turns back toward the door. He'd missed it then, unaccustomed to the use of his coworkers' first name. Tenya. Iida Tenya, of course it's Iida Tenya. Recently married and notorious for showing off his wedding photos while loudly reiterating his love for his husband at every chance he gets, Iida Tenya.

Maybe Shouto should've taken a look at those pictures, after all.

It's not that Shouto doesn't like Iida, he's worked with him for a little over a year and the man has only ever been kind and fair and interested in doing the right thing, but he's also loud and a little too preoccupied with following the rules. Shouto does appreciate his silent camaraderie when they're the only two left at the office, working unnecessary overtime for their own reasons. Still, he likes to keep his work life separate from his social life, or maybe he just won't let anyone in closer than arm's length. Whatever it is, it's enough to leave his palms feeling sweaty as he watches Iida Tenya and his husband, Hitoshi Shinsou shrug off their jackets as they approach the table.

Shouto is suddenly very aware of how small the world is as Hitoshi rounds the table to take the seat next to him and Iida takes the one opposite his husband. Iida's dark blue eyes are wide when he recognizes Shouto, and the upturn of his lips speaks of pleasant surprise.

"Todoroki Shouto, my husband, Iida Tenya," Hitoshi says, gesturing across the table and taking in the mutual shock on their faces, "but it seems you've already met?"

Iida nods, and there's fondness in his eyes when he meets his husband's gaze, before turning to Shouto, "so, you're Izuku's Shouto! I thought perhaps, but it seemed too unlikely a coincidence! I should've known when Izuku described your dedication and perseverance."

The blush on his ears grows to cover his whole face at both the compliment and implication that he is Izuku's anything.

(Shouto is too busy turning red to see Hitoshi shake is head in Iida's direction, mouthing something Shouto couldn't have made out even if he was paying attention.)

He's not too busy to hear Hitoshi clear his throat and offer him an out, for which he is grateful, "so, I saw you talking to Akari, I'm impressed. She's not much for talking, not that I'm anyone to judge. How'd you do it?"

"She approached me, actually."

Shinsou's eyebrows hit his hairline and his voice is tinged with disbelief when he speaks "really? Why?"

Damn that scotch and the loose tongue it seems to inspire, Shouto chastises as he wracks his brain for a plausible excuse. He's lucky when Midoriya's voice startles him and rescues him from an impossible mission.

"Tenya! So good to see you!" his smile is wide and genuine as he sets the drinks down. Shouto's attention is trained on the table, and if it weren't for the overwhelming heat in his cheeks that he's failing to will away, he would've missed the faint tan line on the ring finger of a left hand where a familiar gold band is supposed to be.

The hand is gone as quickly as it came, releasing Shouto's glass and pulling Tenya into a hug, but Shouto's eyes haven't moved. His mind races over explanations and a hundred plausible possibilities fly in through the floodgates.

He does his best to stay calm, to filter through the thoughts and land on something that might actually make sense, and definitely not the one possibility that feeds the flicker of hope he thought he'd put out a long time ago.

He steadies his breath as a sensible path clears and he's settling on "he takes it off for practice, and forgot to put it back on," by the time he realizes the table has gone quiet. When he lifts his head, he finds Midoriya's expectant green eyes and an encouraging smile.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

Hitoshi laughs and pats his shoulder, "Izuku was just asking if he should grab menus."

"...if he wants to?" he says as he turns to look at Hitoshi. It's more of a question than a statement, but he's still trying to catch up, to quiet the incessant whisper lacing his thoughts what if what if WHAT IF. His stomach makes itself known with a growl and reminds him that he hasn't eaten since breakfast (and that he's being rude), so he wills himself to look at Midoriya, wow have his eyes always sparkled like that, and attempts an apologetic smile, "yes, a menu would be great. Thank you."

Midoriya's grin widens, "thought so! Be right back."

Shouto lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and takes a sip of his scotch. The alcohol is cool and bites as it fills his mouth and filters down his throat. The contrast of it to his heated cheeks is grounding and enough to, maybe not dispel, but at least quiet the questions that are still chasing each other's tails across his the inside of his skull, so he turns to Hitoshi and Iida and tunes back in.

Iida is laughing about something and there's mischief in Hitoshi's smile. Shouto's come late to the conversation and missed whatever it is that's bringing tears to the corners of Iida's eyes so that he's taking off his glasses and pulling out a soft cloth to wipe them. Hitoshi's smile is relaxed and warm as the edges of it twitch as if he's trying to hold in his own laughter.

It's nice, Shouto thinks, to see Hitoshi so happy. He's always been on the peripheral of Shouto's memories, sitting in dark corners at high school parties, walking in the back of whatever group they'd found themselves in, including himself with a biting quip every now and then. Seemingly as uninterested in social interaction as Shouto usually was, and really only there because Midoriya invited him. Which is also the only reason Shouto ever went, but it was nice to have a companion, someone to share a quiet moment with when it all got to be a bit too much.

The Hitoshi Shouto knew was guarded. It's something that bonded them, an unspoken understanding that sometimes life is cruel and sometimes that cruelty leaves footprints behind in wet cement. If sometimes Hitoshi didn't speak for a few days, or if Shouto sat glassy-eyed and lost in his thoughts, well, the other didn't bat an eye, accepting the atypical behavior and comforting one another with no questions asked.

This Hitoshi is sitting forward in his chair, leaning in toward his husband, his gaze tender and his smile sweet and Shouto feels a little bit like he's intruding. So he stays quiet and listens as they joke about cats and freight trains, or, so Shouto thinks, from what he's managed to gather between Iida's poorly stifled giggles and Hitoshi's low volume in the busy bar.

The corners of his own mouth begin to pull up as he takes in the scene in front of him. They really are a sweet couple, comfortable and easy together and Shouto really is happy for them, both of them.

(He does his very best to swallow down the faint taste of bile that envy tries to push up his throat, and ignores the image of Midoriya's hand, noticeably ringless, when it flashes across his mind's eye.)

Shouto is finishing his second scotch, and deciding he will not be having a third, at least not until he's had something to eat, when Midoriya makes it back to the table with four menus in his hand. His left hand, and Shouto does his best to look away before his thoughts start racing again.

"I don't know why you two even wanted menus, you always get the same thing," Midoriya teases as he passes the tri-folds around. A loud gurgle erupts in Shouto's belly as he takes one, grateful, it seems, for the prospect of food in its future. The light shining in Midoriya's eyes makes them sparkle as he grins at the blush on Shouto's cheeks, which only serves to paint it richer.

"As adults, it is important to learn and experience as much as possible in order to expand not only our knowledge base, but also our capacities for empathy," Iida states with authority and Shouto almost smiles at the intensity of his response regarding something as simple as ordering bar food. He does smile when he notices the hint of amusement in the slight upturn of Iida's lips.

Hitoshi just shrugs, "just because I already know that the tavern burger is the only thing here worth eating, doesn't mean I don't want to know my options."

Midoriya rolls his eyes and throws up his arms in playful exasperation "you say that every week. You've never even tried anything else!"

"I don't need to, I only needed to try the tavern burger once to realize its vast superiority," Iida is nodding in agreement, but his eyebrows are knitted together and there's a question in his voice when he turns to Midoriya.

"But Izuku, you also always order the tavern burger, in fact, the only person here who even needed a menu is Todoroki. Did you perhaps only retrieve menus for his benefit? How chivalrous!"

"I- I umm…" hot red shoots up from the base of Midoriya's neck to his hairline like an overheated thermometer, but Shouto doesn't have a chance to register the color before Midoriya's hands are covering his face as he sputters.

Shouto's stomach sours when he checks for a third time. It's still not there and he's not sure how he feels about that.

(He's too preoccupied with Midoriya's reaction to notice the quick glance of disapproval Hitoshi manages to send Iida).

Iida's eyebrows raise at his husband, but he ultimately ignores him in lieu of shaking his head at Midoriya, and turning his attention to Shouto. "So Todoroki, have you decided?"

Honestly, he hasn't even opened the menu, distracted by the antics of his friends and the questions that the flush still covering Midoriya's face brings up, though he seems to have mostly calmed down by now, minus the not so subtle glances he's throwing at Shouto, and actually, those aren't helping either.

In the end, he doesn't bother, he rarely eats American food, but he also rarely eats anywhere that isn't his own kitchen. So, he goes with the inadvertent recommendation, "well, I think I have to get the tavern burger."

"Ah, still a man of taste, I see," Hitoshi laughs.

"Well, it is a very good burger," Iida relents, his own menu unopened despite his earlier explanation.

"It is!" Midoriya cries, raising his fist in the air with unnecessary enthusiasm, overcompensating for his earlier embarrassment.

This time, Shouto catches the silent conversation between Hitoshi and Iida, he doesn't know what the rise in Hitoshi's eyebrows means, or understand the tiny nod Iida returns. He's a little uncomfortable at the intimacy of it, so he looks away just as Hitoshi pushes his seat back to stand and offers to put in the orders.

"I'll join you, dear," Iida replies as he follows Hitoshi's lead out of his chair and up to the bar.

Without the buffer of their friends, an awkwardness settles around Midoriya and Shouto. It's exacerbated by the way Midoriya is looking up at him through his eyelashes, a shy blush on his cheeks.

So cute, the unhelpful voice in his head squeals. Shouto does his best to tamp it down, but Midoriya seems content in the silence that only fills Shouto with a dangerous energy he doesn't have a name for. Directing his gaze in the vague direction of the bar, he fills it, "they seem really happy."

"Yeah," Midoriya's voice is soft in agreement, but there's an air of sadness about it, "they're really good for each other."

I could've been good for you, Shouto thinks and almost says, feeling petulant as he runs his index finger around the rim of his empty glass. He will absolutely not be having any more scotch tonight.

He decides that maybe silence is the way to go after all, and spends the next few moments volleying between glancing up to find Midoriya still watching him, and overthinking every decision he's ever made.

It feels like hours go by like that, but it's really only a matter of minutes before Hitoshi and Iida have returned from the bar and taken their seats. It seems to break whatever spell Midoriya had fallen victim to, and it's not long before he's talking animatedly about some show Shouto's never heard of.

Midoriya's whole face shines in excitement at the information, filling Shouto in, and discussing his latest theories with their friends.

Hours do go by as he listens to his friends talk, interjecting here and there with questions and idle commentary, and Shouto finds himself settling into the ease of it all. The sky has settled into night and it's warm and comfortable, sharing a meal with friends, both old and new. For a while he forgets about the frantic questions in his head and the pit in his stomach, content, for once, to live only in this moment.

He does end up having that third drink, after all.

Later that night, after he's sobered up enough to drive and dropped Midoriya off at his apartment, Shouto is shuffling through his front door and toeing off his shoes. The light of the moon fills the empty room with an eerie glow and, for the first time, Shouto considers decorating, filling his home with warm, soft things. He's not even a little surprised when his brain auto-fills the room with green and he groans as he shrugs his bag off his shoulder and onto the table.

Something falls out when it inevitably tips over and Shouto's eyes land on the cover of the copy of Wuthering Heights Akari had thrown at him. Curious, he flips it over to read the excerpt on the back and his eyebrows raise at the description of a tragic love.

He knows he doesn't have to read it. Still, he recalls the bruise on her cheek and guarded look that's taken up residence in her eyes, but it was excitement that lit up Akari's whole being as she pondered his own romantic tragedies, and he hopes that indulging her theories is enough to gain her trust.

It's also a welcome distraction from the image of Midoriya's empty finger that seems to be haunting him now.

When he falls asleep that night, it's with the lamp on his side table illuminating his room with soft, yellow light, and a book propped open on his stomach, riding the calming waves of Shouto's sleeping breaths.

 **(A/N: Shouto is a confused boy, and we love him.**

 **Okayyy, here's the deal, I'm just going to start posting shorter chapters. It's much more manageable for me to write short chapters and post more frequently. I hope that's okay with you. Especially as we head toward the climax which is going to rip my soul out of my body to write, so consider that a warning. (There's still a happy ending coming). I'll write in the character POV in the notes at the beginning of each chapter.**

 **Thank y'all so much for the love this fic is getting, I love this story more and more every day and getting to share it means the world to me. You're all my favorites.)**


	8. Shouto: For the Facts They Are

**(CW: mentions of abuse)**

The following days are full of surprises for Shouto.

The first being that, try as he might, he can't seem to put down Wuthering Heights. When he wakes up in the morning, before his alarm for once, the faint gray-green of the moors lingers in his mind. So he leans over the side of his bed and retrieves the book from the floor, finds the last section he can remember, and reads while he waits for his alarm.

When it does go off fifteen minutes later, he finds he still can't tear his eyes from the pages, drawn in by the vivid prose and haunting imagery. It's not often he reads for pleasure, but thanks to many years of studying and case reports and research, he's trained himself to read quickly. Though, Emily Bronte's nineteenth-century English prose does offer a new challenge. Shouto is proficient in English, has to be for his career, but the way the words twist and twine around each other sometimes leaves him rereading passages, doing his best to decipher the ethereal puzzle placed before him.

He reads as he brushes his teeth, eats breakfast, and walks out the door. Forgoes a shower in lieu of keeping his eyes glued to the page in front of him. For a moment, as he's locking his door and being introduced to Heathcliff, he considers taking the train, if only to not have to put it down.

With a glance to his watch, he realizes that, though he woke up early that morning, he's somehow pushing the clock and doesn't have time to wait on the train. A small sigh escapes his parted lips, and he huffs as he notes his page and puts it in his bag.

The hum of the engine plays in Shouto's ears, but his thoughts are a million miles away. Pondering Akari's obvious attachment to the story, wondering why she would compare it to his own love life, beyond the fact that Cathy and Heathcliff's romance would only end in tragedy, much like his own has always done.

By the time he's pulling into the parking garage and putting the car in park, his thoughts have shifted entirely to Akari, and he spends the morning researching Tamashiro Raiden. Most of what he finds are old interviews and clips of his routines from the 20** Olympics. There's not much to glean from them, the man smiles and winks and the camera loves him.

Much like the cameras loved Todoroki Enji, and the look in their eyes is the same, cold and calculating and proud. His skin prickles at the sight, but, again, a feeling isn't concrete enough to rest a case on.

He works through lunch, ignoring the queasy growl of his stomach as he looks Tamashiro up in police databases across the country. There's no record of him, a model citizen if there ever was one. Shouto knows the truth, though, so he continues his search.

It's the end of the day when the second surprise comes in the form of a ten-year-old newspaper article announcing the unexpected death of Tamashiro Haruko during childbirth. Ah, another similarity then, a mother taken away too soon and gone forever. His blood runs cold through his veins and sends a chill up his spine as he quickly exits out of the article and ignores the brown-grey eyes staring at him from the shadows.

He wonders what Akari thinks of her own mother, wonders if she blames herself. He certainly does, but this isn't about him and he can't pretend to know what she's thinking.

His fingers ache to continue typing, clicking, working, and his eyes linger on the screen, not ready to be torn away, but his head aches and he's finding it hard to swallow and his office hours are over. So, he sits up straight in his chair, grimacing at the twinge in his lower back from hunching over a computer screen for eight hours straight.

There's a voice in his mind compelling him to keep working, but another part of him is still curious to see Cathy and Heathcliffe's romance unfold, begging him to put it away and distract himself from the emptiness he's had in his heart since he was six years old. The one that was only ever filled for a number of months before it was scooped right back out of him, deeper and harsher and forever.

And Todoroki Rei is the source of said heartbreak.

It's the knowledge that he can't do his job effectively if he's distracted by personal matters that cements his resolve and has him turning off his computer and packing his things away. Though his fingers are reluctant to turn off the desk lamp, he does it anyway and heads home.

(When he gets there he picks up where he left off and doesn't stop reading until the sun has long filtered out of his living room and the clock on the wall reads well past midnight.)

Wednesday passes much the same, more dead ends and he's so engrossed in research and Wuthering Heights that he almost forgets to eat. It's Midoriya who saves him from accidental malnutrition when he texts him a 'just wanted to check in, I'm here if you need anything!' sometime after Shouto has left work and before he's managed to leave his couch, captivated by the story unfolding in his hands.

(He thinks there are ways that it is similar, the love triangle certainly, but the hateful jealousy, the almost feral need to possess, are foreign to him. With a pencil, he makes a note in the margin to discuss this with Akari when he sees her next.)

Shouto responds with a thank you and inquiry into Midoriya's well-being. His heart only swells a little at the evidence that Midoriya was thinking about him, but the growl his stomach emits is loud and he's present enough to remember he should probably fill it.

So, he takes his phone along as he rolls off the couch and practically crawls to the kitchen.

Somehow a text recalling how good the new katsudon place Midoriya had found turns into a speculative debate on whether or not time travel is feasible and the ethics of manipulating the past to change the future.

(Shouto can't help but recognize the irony of having this conversation with the one person he would desperately like to go back in time for. To a picnic in the sun the year Inko was teaching him to cook. He'd accidentally substituted salt for sugar in the crepe cake he'd made unsupervised. Midoriya just smiled and ate more bites than he probably should, even when his eyes watered and his face started turning red, and, for the first time, Shouto knew the extra beat in his heart was love. He should've said it then before someone had a chance to beat him to it, not laugh and exclaim Midoriya reckless and brave. Or maybe he'd go back to a misunderstood confession in a dorm room, his last chance and he'd fumbled it. Maybe there could've been a burst of light in the darkness of that year and all of the ones that followed it.)

Hours pass, the ding of his text notifications punctuating nearly every paragraph Shouto reads, but he doesn't mind, is actually enjoying himself.

There's a smile on his face when he falls asleep that night, images of green eyes and lips stretched wide over freckled cheeks illuminate his dreams. A pleasant surprise.

A break comes on Thursday afternoon when Shouto stumbles on the r/tamashiroraidenisadick subreddit. There are only about ten threads, but some of them have comments in the high thousands. One thread is titled only 'akari,' and he can't click the link fast enough, his eyes skimming the page the moment it opens.

It's a few years old, posted sometime around Tamashiro's retirement, so Akari must have been six at the time. The user recounts working at a restaurant that Tamashiro frequented for business meetings, the many small dining rooms made it ideal for private conversations. One time, he had Akari in tow. Seemed like a nice kid, quiet, she was rarely seen in the public eye, so her shyness was understandable. Sometime around the middle of the meal, the user went back to ask if they needed anything else and Akari looked like she wanted to say something, but kept glancing at her father. When he didn't react, the user asked her if they could get her anything, Akari asked for more water and Tamashiro grabbed her arm, hard it seems, and turned her to face him as he angrily berated her for speaking when he told her not to.

Shouto's mouth goes dry as he reads the comments that follow, it's shorter than the other threads, but there are still over one hundred responses. They vary from denial to contemplation to disgust to a few other user's own accounts of Tamashiro's unnecessarily cruel behavior toward his daughter.

His stomach sours, but it's relief he feels as he decides he won't be needing lunch today. Four years is a little too long to consider the OP a witness, but a few of the comments are only a couple of months old, one even dated for last week. The stories range from harsh words to light physical aggression and, finally, Shouto has found witnesses.

It would be much easier to track down said witnesses if this case wasn't still on a strict need-to-know basis, lest Tamashiro somehow gets word of it and retaliates. An anonymous subreddit is certainly not the ideal way to come across the exact evidence he needs to move the case forward and push it into court.

Lucky for him, he's had a hacker in his back pocket since college, though she hates it when he calls her that. Another surprise then.

Jirou Kiyoka, radio DJ by night, freelance systems analyst by day. God, she's going to kill him for disappearing for months only to text her when he needs something.

She always does.

If he's being honest, though, it's her girlfriend Yaoyorozu Momo that he's more afraid of. She has an uncanny way of calling him out when he's being stubborn, and Shouto doesn't have to wonder why he stays away.

They were the only friends he made in college separate from Midoriya's, and they remained that way. Sure, there were times when everybody got together in one big group, but they were few and far between and Shouto found himself grateful for the reprieve from pining when he'd meet Yaoyorozu and Jirou for study dates or coffee.

If either of them noticed the way Shouto softened at the mention of Midoriya or how he sometimes stared wistfully after him, well, they kept it to themselves, but something about the knowing looks they shared told him they did.

Still, Jirou is the best person for the job, so he puts on his professional face and pulls out his phone, typing out a quick greeting.

When Jirou replies with a "Shouto! Hello! What do you need this time?" his nerves exit with an exhale, but guilt is quick to replace them.

Tucking it away for later, he offers Jirou a vague explanation and hopes she can help. Her response is quick and affirmative, "but you have to have lunch with Momo and I" being the only catch.

Shouto gulps, but knows it's a small price to pay, and will probably be good for him anyway. They make plans to meet in the morning and Shouto is finally starting to feel like he can really win this case.

He remembers dinner on his own that night, his stomach interrupting his catharsis when he's read the last page and lingers at the headstones with Lockwood for a moment.

He's on auto-pilot as he pulls vegetables from the fridge and analyzes the book. Now that he knows the whole story, he's not sure if he likes Heathcliff or Cathy, but they were certainly meant for each other. Well, maybe not, but it doesn't make him enjoy the book any less. He can't see himself as a Heathcliff, can't empathize with the man's incessant need for revenge in his own convoluted way. And Midoriya is definitely not a Cathy, his relationship with Uraraka is neither about money or Shouto.

No, their's is a different kind of tragedy altogether. He wonders what other suggestions Akari has. He's doing the dishes when he remembers she mentioned a movie, but the title is lost to him.

He goes to bed early that night, the events of the week already catching up to him, though he still has to get through Friday- and lunch with Yaoyorozu and Jirou- before it's over.

It's when his eyes are closed and he's beginning to lose himself in that ethereal place somewhere between wakefulness and dreams that he remembers. Casablanca.

He'll have to watch it tomorrow night then.

The Yaoyorozu-Jirou residence is on the opposite side of the city from his own office, but he enjoys the drive, takes his time on side streets and tries not to let the guilt of using his friends ignite his nerves.

He's not really succeeding, but it's the thought that counts.

When he gets to their tree-lined stoop, trudges up the step to their door, and knocks, said door flies open on the second rap. Jirou is standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"Okay let's get business out of the way so the interrogation can commence."

Shouto gulps and raises a brow.

"Interrogation?"

"I had drinks with Denki last night and when I mentioned we were having lunch today, he oh so helpfully recalled that a tired little birdy told him that you and Midoriya reconciled."

Her tone is sickly-sweet, but the glare she's sending him has Shouto genuinely fearing for his life.

"I well-"

She cuts him off and advances, her forefinger accusatory as it emphasizes her words, "and someone just didn't think to tell their only friends- don't argue, I know it's true- that something monumental has happened. Just slipped your mind, did it?"

With each step Jirou takes forward, Shouto takes one back until his heels are hovering above the top step of the stoop.

When she stops, it's sudden, and saves Shouto from toppling backward down the stairs, but the look in her eyes might just kill him anyway.

Like she somehow always does, Yaoyorozu appears behind her girlfriend at that moment, rescuing Shouto from certain demise at the hands of her girlfriend. Her eyes flicker between the two of them as she takes in the scene and shakes her head at Jirou's antics.

Her gaze softens when it meets Shouto's. "Hi, Shouto, it's been awhile."

"Hi Yaoyorozu," he says with a small wave.

"Don't greet him like he hasn't done anything!"

"Kyoka, calm down, please. We talked about this, Shouto needs your help with his very important case and we will discuss 'the Midoriya issue' at lunch."

The fire in Jirou's eyes flickers out as she takes in her girlfriend's calm and reasonable response. Still, her lip juts out into a little pout as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Fine, but we ARE talking about this."

"Of course." And Yaoyorozu's words are directed at Shouto this time. There's defeat in his sigh as his shoulder's slump a little.

"Okay, sure. We'll talk about it."

That seems to be enough to satiate Jirou's aggressive curiosity for the time being as she gestures for him to follow and they head inside.

He doesn't miss the sympathetic look Yaoyorozu sends his way as he passes her, or the flicker of frustration in it.

Shouto is grateful that Jirou is serious when it comes to her job, understands the importance of their work. She's all business when she takes a seat in front of the computer in her home office and offers Shouto the one beside her.

"Okay, what are we doing today?"

Shouto's already pulling out the list of usernames he'd made the day prior.

"I need the names and contact information of these people."

Jirou takes the list, examining the page before turning to her computer with a nod.

"Alright, it'll take a few hours, but I can definitely do this."

Shouto is also grateful that Jirou is very good at her job.

It really is only a few hours later that Shouto finds himself at their dining room table, preparing to answer questions he's never been interested in facing.

Yaoyorozu is sitting across from him, her presence comforting and patient.

Jirou's on the other hand, is not.

"Okay okay okay, so, what actually happened, Mr. I'm Never-Going-To-Talk-To-Midoriya-Again? I'm not even going to touch the fact that we still don't know why you stopped talking in the first place, and…"

"Kyoka, let him speak."

Shouto's not sure if he's glad for the interruption, not if it means it's his turn to speak, but two pairs of dark eyes turn to him, prepared to wait if they have to.

He knows they mean well, worry after him, care about him, but that's why he stays away, keeps them from his unnecessary drama, broods alone and all that.

He is, however, powerless before them, so he starts with the truth, "I ran into him at a bar two weeks ago. We chatted, caught up, I drank too much and slept on his couch." His audience's surprise is evident from the rise of Jirou's eyebrows and Yaoyorozu's small gasp.

"Nothing happened, I just was too far gone to remember my own address. Then we ran into each other at the Farmer's Market on Saturday and made dinner plans. We had said dinner on Sunday and drinks with Hitoshi and his husband on Monday. I haven't seen him since, but we've been texting a bit." He's calm as he states them for the facts they are. It's easy to talk about when he puts it like that.

Of course, Yaoyorozu knows better, "that is… a lot, but Shouto how are you feeling? Are you okay? This is probably bringing a lot up for you."

Oh and that's the other catch, Yaoyorozu is a psychiatrist. And she's never tried very hard not to analyze Shouto.

Feelings are the hard part, always have been, but Shouto finds the ones involving Midoriya impossible to confront.

Yaoyorozu's voice is soft and coaxing, and words spill out of him even though he thinks he might be sick.

"Relieved, terrified, guilty," Shouto's head falls over hunched shoulders in defeat, "I'm so happy to see him, but it brings up… a lot."

Yaoyorozu hums in response and Jirou seems to have let her girlfriend take the lead, watching careful from the sidelines.

"I'm sure. Shouto, have you talked to Midoriya about it? You've been hanging on to this thing for so long. You punish yourself with isolation. What about seeing someone, maybe an impartial third party? Of course, as your friend, I'm always here to listen, but I don't seem to be the one you want to tell. I have a contact I can give you if you're interested."

Shouto recognizes the practiced monologue for the subtle intervention it is. He knows the speak, has used it himself. He does have a degree in psychology, after all.

It's true though, he can't hold a mirror up to himself, especially not to see that he might be the one who needs help.

Shouto's chest feels hollow, and he's still a little queasy, but he nods, because she's right and he's really getting tired of the whole thing. Not Midoriya, but the rest of it. The baggage. It's heavy and he doesn't want it anymore.

He's also grateful for the out she's given him, he's far too ashamed to admit the truth of it all to Yaoyorozu and Jirou, fears they will see him for the copy of his father he really is. Selfish. So, selfish.

This time, the smile on Yaoyorozu's face is full of relief and encouragement. She sends Jirou a look that says 'leave it,' and Jirou groans as she leans back into her seat, but she changes the subject anyway.

In the end, he has a good time catching up over soba with people he really should stop hiding from. They're his friends, he can put in a little effort.

When he leaves later that afternoon, it's with a little more warmth in his heart and the number of one of Yaoyorozu's colleagues tucked away safe in his pocket.

He spends the rest of his workday at home, starts on the extensive task of calling the numbers on the list he'd been given. He coordinates the names and numbers with their respective comments and tells them he's an investigative reporter doing an expose on Tamashiro. Promises anonymity as he inquires as to whether they might be willing to talk about the posts they made.

Mostly, he receives answering machines, and a few people respond with resolute no's, but one person agrees to get coffee with him the next week and Shouto counts it a success.

It's 6:30 and he's halfway through the list when he decides it's probably an inappropriate time to solicit meetings with strangers whose names he stole from the internet. So, he combs his fingers through his hair and pulls it into a loose bun at the nape of his neck.

His hands drag down his face as he stands from the table and heads to the kitchen, doesn't even bother to put his work away or stop thinking about it.

It's frustrating, the waiting and secrecy, but it's Akari's face, closed off and far away, that implores him to keep working. To help, even if she hasn't asked for it.

God, he hopes he can.

 **(A/N: This is not an example of how abuse allegations would, or should, be handled by a social worker. Just a product of the imagination of a writer who has some fuzzy memories of their own traumatic childhood.**

 **Okay, lots of information kind of peppered throughout this one, all of which will be explored in coming chapters.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. Please leave comments if you feel so inclined.**

 **I'm always happy to cry with you on tumblr: wordsandstuffbyme)**


	9. Izuku: 20 and Just Before Luck Runs Out

**(A/N: Welcome back, Izuku! Here's the fluff before the storm. It's really coming next time, folks.)**

It's three months to the day after the Olympics when Todoroki Rei moves out of the hospital and into Shouto and Fuyumi's small, two bedroom apartment.

For Izuku, the time drags on at a snail's pace, and he knows he's not the only one. Shouto is fidgety when he visits him at the hospital during the week and a half he spends there, which could be chalked up to the anxiety of seeing his friend in hospital, but he's still buzzing with nervous energy when Izuku comes home, and he knows he wasn't the only one experiencing the slow drag of time. Waiting for something that only it can bring.

Still, now that he's here, he's not sure where those three months went, the physical therapy and check-ups are little more than a blur in his mind's-eye when he wakes up to the sun filling his room in the middle of February and something in him knows it's come out just for Shouto's mom.

His own mom lets Izuku tag along for the move, but he is absolutely-definitely-under-no-circumstance allowed to lift anything.

It's only a small box, Izuku thinks as he shifts both of his crutches to rest under his right arm and lifts what is actually a medium to large sized box out of the backseat of Fuyumi's Subaru and onto his shoulder. He's glad his mother seems to have hit the traffic they'd narrowly missed on the way from the hospital. He doesn't want to worry her, but he's totally got this. It's only three flights of stairs up to the door and the box isn't that heavy, and what's the point of even coming if he's not going to help.

He's almost regretting his decision by the time he's trudged up all three floors and is standing in front of Fuyumi and Shouto's door. There's an ache in his shoulder and he's accidentally put weight on his ankle multiple times, but all of his complaints fall out the window at the sight that greets him from the open doorway.

There are boxes strewn around the living room, half opened and forgotten, it seems. An old case style record player is set up on the counter and a song that Izuku's never heard before fills the room. It doesn't matter if he knows it or not, he's captivated by the way Rei-san twirls around the room, carefree and graceful, and, when she pulls Shouto into the middle of the floor and leads him in an awkward dance that's just a few beats behind, it's Izuku's own heart that skips a beat at the sound that escapes Shouto's lips and the way those lips are pulled taut across his rosy cheeks.

Izuku thinks he'd live the last three months ten times over if it means he could see that smile on Shouto's face at the end. To hear him laugh, just like that, he'd do it again and again and again.

It's a million miles away from the boy who'd shown up, pale-faced and thin-lipped, at his door following his first visit with Rei-san a year ago, after the court petition for visitations had finally gone through. There'd been hope in his eyes though, hope that he and his mother could move forward, build a new relationship free of Enji's heavy hand. It's that hope that Izuku did his best to cultivate, watering it with encouraging words and an open ear, bringing it light with his widest smiles.

When he finally had the privilege of meeting Rei-san, three months ago, just before the Olympics, wary and anxious, it was the light in Shouto's eyes and the warm, grateful smile on his mother's face, that fizzled the nerves right out of him.

(It didn't stop him from turning bright red when Rei-san thanked him for bringing her son back to her. There was that word, hero, again, and, even if Izuku didn't totally agree, watching Shouto and his mother sharing easy words and even easier smiles, he couldn't help but feel proud of the role he did play, grateful that every little piece fell into place so that he could meet Todoroki Shouto.)

He doesn't know how long he stands there, glued to his spot as he watches mother and son dance, so many long avoided emotions escaping and filling the room with each turn. Soon though, Fuyumi is there, and he doesn't miss the wet sparkle of her eyes as her mother pulls her into the room and a dance of their own.

Izuku's eyes follow Shouto as he continues to spin and move his hips to the melody and he knows he's never been more in love; until, that is, Shouto opens his eyes to find Izuku looking at him. The smirk on his face screams trouble and Izuku yelps when Shouto shimmies closer and pulls him into a fumbling dance of their own, Izuku's cast and crutches leaving him with little more to do than sway back and forth as he leans into Shouto. It doesn't matter though, all Izuku knows is Shouto, Shouto, Shouto, and, if they weren't in the presence of his family, he thinks he'd lean up and kiss those lips that must ache from being stretched so wide for so long. Izuku's certainly do.

The sound of a loud sniffle breaks the spell and brings them all back to the present, four heads turning to the doorway, where his mom is failing to hold back tears and even Yagi's eyes are a little wet.

(Izuku doesn't miss the tender way Yagi holds Inko to his side, hunched a little so he can wrap a protective arm around her shoulders. It's not the first time he wonders if there's something between them. He can't help but hope there is.)

It's Rei-san who laughs and welcomes them in, a flustered Inko who offers to make lunch, and Shouto who still has an arm wrapped around Izuku's waist. Everyone is smiling and happy and Izuku knows it can't get any better than this.

Two months pass by in a flurry of healing and school prep, and Izuku doesn't even have a chance to worry that he won't be seeing as much of Shouto now that Rei-san is back. If anything, he's seeing more of him. What with the tri-weekly family dinners that his mother hosts and Shouto needing a place to sleep with his own mother taking his room and all. Plus, Ochako left for university in September, a semester earlier than Izuku and Shouto since she hadn't participated in the Olympics. Izuku misses her, but he's fine, better than, really, savoring all the time he's getting to spend with his best friend without his girlfriend around to distract him.

That's probably how they end up on calling it quits a week after he and Shouto have moved into the dorms at MU, deciding it would be better to explore the world separately while they're so far apart. Izuku isn't as upset about it as he thinks he should be, but he doesn't really take the opportunity presented to him either.

Or any of the ones for the following three years. Despite the fact that he and Shouto decide they should probably just share a dorm after they spend their first semester tormenting each other's roommates with frequent sleepovers, late night study sessions, and countless hour-long debates over whatever obscure topic one of them has dug up recently. Needless to say, both roommates request transfers and it only makes sense for them to room together.

It's not like Izuku has never shared a room with Shouto, they'd practically lived together for the last two years anyway, but something about the lack of parental presence makes their first few weeks together absolute torture. He's suddenly hyper-aware of the space between them when they are studying on Shouto's bed and he can't help but shake and blush when they share late-night ramen because they were both too busy to remember dinner. There's something so intimate and romantic about it and Izuku doesn't think he's going to last much longer.

At first, he doesn't say anything out of respect for his relationship with Ochako. They were together for a long time and it doesn't seem appropriate to jump right into another relationship, no matter how long he's been holding back his feelings.

Then, it's the newness of being on their own. Everything is bright and shiny and they have the whole world in front of them. Something about it leaves Izuku feeling like a kid with his first crush again, which just so happens to be Shouto anyway, so he doesn't mind savoring the fluttering wings of butterflies in his stomach at the sight of Shouto's heavy eyes and the sound of his sleepy voice wishing him good night.

(He's also still pretty positive that Shouto doesn't see him that way. They're just best friends. He'll tell him one day, but for now, he's happy growing up with Shouto.)

Eventually, the excitement fades, and Izuku finds himself too busy with exams and essays and study groups, to worry about his feelings for Shouto. Shouto's just as busy anyway, but they still make time for late-night ramen and weekly movie nights with their shrinking group of friends from high school and sometimes new ones that someone (usually Izuku) invites to join.

Sophomore year flies by with little fanfare, save for the winter break that they spend at Izuku's. They somehow find themselves sipping hot chocolate alone on the porch on Christmas Eve, watching the snow fall against the deep purple sky. Shouto's eyes are literally twinkling and his scarf is pulled up over his mouth, but Izuku knows he's smiling and the warm flush and wide smile on Izuku's own face are all his fault.

(He almost tells him then, but it's such a pretty moment and he doesn't want to ruin it. So, he's selfish -or maybe it would be selfish to tell him- and tucks the moment into the ever-growing space in his heart labeled Shouto.)

There's also spring break when Yagi suggests they go for a family hike. He is officially part of the family now, he and Inko having finally admitted they'd been dating over a year at dinner shortly after Shouto and Izuku returned for summer break. Though, if he's being honest, he's been family to Izuku since the first time he told him he had potential.

They're on said hike, when Izuku almost sprains his bad ankle because he doesn't notice the thick root protruding out of the ground in the middle of the trail, too busy staring at the way Shouto's t-shirt sticks to his back and emphasizes the muscles there. His ankle does swell and ache, though, so he spends the rest of the week taking it easy and avoiding the knowing look in Fuyumi's eyes. She had been standing right next to him, after all.

(Of course, he doesn't tell him then. Tripping is embarrassing enough without admitting you were ogling your best friend.)

It's the beginning of Junior year when someone in his creative writing elective tells him he should write a book after his third short story reading. The suggestion takes him by surprise, he's never been without ideas, tidbits of prose and dialogue dancing around in his overactive thoughts, but he'd somehow never considered following it beyond his pointless daydreams.

His classmate's words stay with him through the day, brightening the light in his eyes and filling his mind with ideas. Too many ideas and by the time he's made it back to his dorm his head is pounding and he'd like to think about anything besides his prospective novel.

Shouto enters the room twenty minutes later and finds Izuku sitting on the end of his bed, backpack still slung around his shoulders and eyes wide and somewhere far away. It's not an uncommon sight, so he greets him like usual and Izuku snaps back to the present like he always does and explains himself before Shouto even has the chance to ask.

"I think I might like to write a book."

"I think that's a great idea." Shouto says as he pulls his textbooks from his bag and sets them on the desk before taking a seat on his own bed and leaning back on his elbows.

"You don't think it's weird?"

"No I think it makes a lot of sense, actually. You're a very good writer. What do you want to write about?"

"OH! I'm not sure yet. I mean I guess everyone would probably want me to write about my experience working with Yagi and like the road to the Olympics or whatever, so I'll probably just write that." He's even surprised at the words that come out of his mouth, but they aren't untrue and Izuku has a nasty habit of putting others before himself.

(Or, maybe he's scared, and writing about gymnastics is the easy choice. It's just the truth, so he can't be judged for something that came from him. He's never reckless for his own benefit.)

Izuku winces a little when Shouto's brow raises at that, inquisitive and unbelieving.

"You want to write an autobiography?"

"Is that bad?"

"No, just surprising."

"You don't think I should."

A laugh escapes Shouto's lips at that and Izuku can feel the heat in his cheeks, both from the embarrassment of being laughed at, and because of the sincere way Shouto is looking at him.

It's hardly a moment before Shouto is looking at him with a soft smile teasing at his lips and the clench of Izuku's heart is actually painful.

"I don't know why I'm the one reminding you of this, since you taught it to me in the first place, but you should write whatever you want. You have good ideas, Izuku. I'm sure whatever it is, it'll be amazing."

Izuku's sure his entire face is red now, but his throat is also dry and Shouto looks so determined and kind, and it's just so sweet.

(It's right on the tip of his tongue, so he has to keep his lips shut lest it escapes and pushes the one person who can somehow reach him through his chaotic thought processes and calm his anxious nerves away for good.)

"I- I- um. Thank you." Is all he manages.

Shouto's shrug is so nonchalant, Izuku tucks it away as more evidence that Shouto absolutely does not have more than platonic feelings for him.

"It's the least I can do, I don't think I will ever be able to repay you for saving me, I'm glad to be the best friend to you I can be. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Izuku thinks he might die, here and now, because Shouto is so achingly honest, and that, by itself, is his proof.

So, he tucks away any confessions that might be lingering on his lips and expresses his own gratitude, "without me? You'd be fine, I, on the other hand, would honestly probably be dead right now."

"You wouldn't be dead, you might just have a few more broken limbs and a book about the Olympics."

"Ugh, that sounds awful." Izuku smothers a laugh with a feigned groan and finally slides his backpack off his shoulders and onto the floor, kicks off his shoes and lays back on the mattress.

"Could be worse," Shouto says as he copies Izuku, staring up at the ceiling from his own bed. "Anyway, I'm serious. I'd probably be awful right now if I'd continued down Enji's infallible plan for ultimate success."

"Like you're not already awful?" Izuku teases because the thought of his life without Shouto is bad enough to think about, the idea of what Shouto's life would be like if he'd stayed in Enji's custody leaves bile rising in Izuku's throat and an angry fist pounding against his skull. He'd rather laugh it off like the ridiculous thought it is.

A pillow flies across the room and smacks him in the face.

"Hey!" Izuku cries with a laugh.

"Don't be rude," Shouto says with a pout as he crosses his arms across his chest.

He looks so cute, Izuku can't help the giggle that floats from his lips as he sits up and grabs the pillow, takes it across the room with him and sits down next to Shouto. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at the ceiling, but Izuku can see the way the corner of his lips quiver like he's trying to hold back a smile.

"Shoutoooo," Izuku whines a little, "I'm sorrrrryyy." Then he bats him in the face with the pillow and the way Shouto's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline coupled with the genuine betrayal in his eyes leaves Izuku feeling a little guilty.

Not for long though, because Shouto is tearing the pillow from his hands and smacking him in the side of the face with it.

"I'm keeping this."

It's Izuku's turn to pout now, "you started it."

"You were being rude." The glare Shouto sends him is betrayed by the tiny smirk on his lips.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Hardly," Shouto says with a roll of his eyes.

"Okay, okay, okay, I don't think you're awful, Shouto. You're smart and strong and I'm so lucky to have you in my life. Let's just agree we were meant to be?"

A few seconds pass before he realizes what he's said, or what he hasn't said rather. Meant to be friends, of course, that's what he meant. Shouto must know that, but he's taking a long time to respond and Izuku is starting to fidget under his gaze, wishing he could take it back, but for once his blabbering mouth has decided to stop working. Clamped shut for fear he might continue that thought, confess his undying love from pleading lips. So, he sits there and waits and hopes Shouto will take it how he meant it and not as the accidental confession it really is.

"Yeah, something like that," is what he settles on, and Izuku isn't sure that makes him feel any better.

"Well- I've got a lot of homework and…" He says as he gets off the bed, but doesn't move any further away, just stands, awkward and exposed and looking anywhere but Shouto.

"Yeah, me too," Shouto replies, and that is that.

(And Izuku is certain now that Shouto doesn't love him, not the way he wants him to.)

When Izuku wakes up the next morning, there are images of a boy who wants and wants and another boy who hurts and hurts and a hero and a monster and an impossible dream flooding his brain, so he jots down some notes and is officially writing a book.

(He tells his mom and everyone else at family dinner on Sunday, but he's tight-lipped about the plot. Won't give anyone a hint, least of all the inspiration for said story.)

For Izuku and Shouto, The rest of Junior Year is exams and student-teaching and case studies and the kindling of a story he doesn't have the guts to talk about. It's also laughter and determination and growth.

It's the look in Fuyumi's eyes and the scarlet blush on her cheeks as Rei-san and his mom tease her about her latest date with Emiko, the woman who'd apparently swept her off her feet in a bookstore downtown.

It's Yagi and Shouto critiquing the Winter Olympics from the couch at his mom's house, their voices rising as they speculate amicably about the gymnast from Russia.

It's rekindling his relationship with Ochako, who texts him out of the blue one day in the Spring and he's glad to hear from her, hopes they can be friends again, after everything.

It's working harder than he's ever worked before and knowing he can do it because Shouto is matching his every step.

It's… really, really great.

In retrospect, Izuku will wish he'd spent a little more time savoring it, wish he'd taken any one of those chances the universe had thrown to him.

Just to get it out there, to say it, to know.

Even fate eventually gives up, and, as it always does, his luck will eventually run out.

 **(A/N: Oh Izuku. Somebody needs to help this boy. Thank you for reading! Please comment if you're feeling it.)**


	10. Izuku: 21 and the Last Petal Plucked

**(A/N: CW: Character Death- it's nothing graphic, but I do want to give y'all a heads up, though you should already know it's coming.**

 **Also, a reminder: this is technically the past, so, frustrating as it may be, we're just learning all the things Shouto refuses to acknowledge and these two are really working that slow burn.**

 **They both have their reasons.**

 **Anyway, here's an extra long chapter that was only supposed to be half this size! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy- (or something, I wasn't kidding about the angst and the word count on this chapter isn't the only reason it took so long).**

For most kids, the world is a big, shiny ball of possibilities. For Izuku, it wasn't, no matter how hard he dreamed. Deemed too small and weak to amount to anything before he ever really got the chance to try.

Aizawa had been the first to take a chance on him, unlocking the bolt on the garden gate.

Then Yagi had come along and the world blossomed before him, starts sprouting from the once barren earth.

He couldn't believe his luck when Shouto stepped into his line of sight and the flowers bloomed in vibrant hues he didn't have names for.

Finally, finally, anything was possible and his little life wasn't so lonely -or little- anymore.

(In the end, it's always a matter of checks and balances, really. Life is not all good or all bad, it's everything, a million little moments and feelings and choices.

And, no matter how many plans are made or goals are set, it can all change at the drop of a hat.)

Izuku learned it for the first time when he'd walked through those double doors and saw an angry fire burning in ice blue eyes, when he'd been too distracted to feel the snap of his own ankle, when his mother couldn't help but apologize for his own mistake.

That had been bad, but, he'd managed to survive it, navigated the storm with his loyal crew by his side, steering him forward to new dreams of his choosing.

Now, the summer sun beats down and tans Izuku's skin as he watches his mom and Yagi walk down the beach, hand in hand like sweethearts, sees the soft upturn of Rei-san's lips as she dips her toes in the sand and smiles at whatever Fuyumi is saying.

It really did turn out alright, even if there were some unexpected twists and turns along the way.

Shouto is lying on his back to Izuku's right, his fingers toying with the corner of his navy blue beach towel as his heels dig into the sand and his skin's a little pink from the sun…

...and Izuku halts that train of thought before he starts waxing poetic about the shape of Shouto's calves or something.

Izuku might think he's the epitome of relaxation- if it weren't for the heavy book he's got propped up on his bent knees and the fact that he's ankle deep in legal jargon and very fine print and Izuku actually thinks there's no way he's enjoying himself.

With a shake of his head and a soft chuckle, he leans a little closer and stage whispers "you know it's summer break, right?"

One silver brow rises above the dark lens of Shouto's sunglasses, but he doesn't acknowledge Izuku otherwise.

"C'mon, Shouto! You can't spend the whole vacation working! Have some fun!"

"I am having fun."

"Ha!" Izuku laughs like he doesn't believe him, "I'm sure 'Criminal Law: Doctrine, Application, and Process' is thrilling."

"It is actually. I'm thrilled to know I'll be prepared when we go back to school in a few weeks."

Before Shouto has a chance to realize what's happening, Izuku huffs and tears the book from his grip, shuts it tight, and sits on it.

He doesn't have to be able to see Shouto's eyes to know they've just done a somersault.

"Stealing is a crime, y'know." A pout erupts on Izuku's lips at that, and he crosses his arms over his chest and shifts a little, the hardcover of the textbook digging into his thigh.

"No, the real crime is you reading criminal law when you should be spending your limited free time playing in the ocean with your best friend."

Shouto sits up at that, the scowl on his face softening just a little before his usual smirk takes its place. "What... do you miss me or something?"

It's not the sun that turns Izuku bright red at Shouto's teasing, "uh… something like that."

"Well, I'm right here."

When Shouto responds, there's a deep timbre to his voice, but there's something tentative about the upturn of his lips, like he's asking for permission. For what, Izuku doesn't know and his mind must be playing tricks on him because there is no way Shouto is leaning forward, closing the space between them, reaching an arm out behind Izuku.

He wishes he could see his eyes, figure out what's going on in that head of his. As it is, he blames his imagination and tries to go on like Shouto's lips aren't mere inches from his, like he's not shading Izuku from the sun.

"Obv- obviously! But you've had your head stuffed in books since school ended. Don't you want to take a break?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to take them back. Not because they're untrue, but because of the way his stomach drops when the smile falls off of Shouto's face, any semblance of a moment that may have been gone as Shouto runs a hand through his hair and stands up.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'm gonna go for a swim," it's drenched in so much disappointment, even oblivious Izuku can hear it, and his stomach sours just as his heart readies to take flight.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't his imagination, after all. Maybe he does have a chance. Maybe he's ready to take it.

Later, when they're sitting in the backseat of his mom's minivan, the sun setting around them and filling the car in shades of orange and pink, Izuku catches Shouto watching him out of the corner of his eye. There's the faintest blush on his cheeks and his eyes are soft and fond and Izuku promises himself he will say something before graduation.

For now, he reaches across the seat and takes Shouto's hand in his, closes his eyes and leans his head back.

There's no need to rush, they have their whole lives ahead of them.

The courage will come when it's time, until then, the reassuring hold of Shouto's hand is enough.

(Really, Izuku should know by now, the peace never lasts and some chances have a time limit- or perhaps it's just not yet their time at all.)

It starts in September, just before they're due back at MU.

Izuku is preparing for a run, balancing with one arm on the back of a bench as he stretches his quads in front of his parent's house.

He's waving good morning to his neighbor Hayato-san when the music playing in his headphones is replaced by the ring of an incoming call.

With a curious rise of his brow, he answers it without checking the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Deku." Ochako's voice is cheerful as ever, but something about the subdued lilt to her tone and the sniffle that escapes at the end has Izuku's brow furrowing for an entirely different reason.

"Ochako? Are you okay?" He's standing up fully now and checking his watch. He's supposed to be back for lunch, but if Ochako needs his help, he's sure they'll understand.

"I-I'm… no." Her voice is low, quiet, defeated.

"Where are you? Do you need help? I can come…"

"No, it's not- Deku can we just talk for a minute? I have…" she stops then, hesitant, and the pit that's started to form in Izuku's stomach only grows, "I wanted to ask you something."

"O-okay?"

She inhales deep and the sharp exhale rings in Izuku's ears a little, but he's still ready to start running if he has to.

"Remember how, when we were together, everything was so easy. It's like- it all made sense. We didn't play games and you were good to me and I hope- I hope I was good to you, too."

Her voice stutters a little at that and Izuku's heart breaks at her confession.

"You were, Ocha. We had a lot of fun together."

The laugh that sounds through the phone is hardly more than a wet cough.

"Yeah, we did, huh?" Her voice is light and far away and Izuku is glad that this is something they can talk about now, that they really are friends again.

Or so he thinks.

"Deku, will you marry me?"

The substantial tan he'd gained over the summer falls from his face, his eyes bulge out of their sockets and his jaw drops as he stumbles over all of the words that flood into his mouth at once.

"I-uh, huh- wha- it's been... I mean, why?"

It's that strong determination that belongs only to Ochako that responds, "because I love you and we can make each other happy. I know it's been a long time, but we can have a long engagement. Everyone always said… I just- I always thought it would be you."

Izuku really doesn't know what to say to that. He'd really never considered marrying Ochako. he'd strung her along for long enough and it's probably best for the both of them to move on.

Besides, he's promised himself he'll come clean to Shouto.

Except... Shouto has had just as many opportunities as himself to say something and the unspoken words are just another petal pulled for he loves me not.

If he's being honest, Izuku can see it, too. A little house with a yard, someone always there to come home to. Someone who is kind and warm and safe, even if it's not the someone he'd most like it to be.

So he finds himself saying, "I'll think about it," and guesses it's enough for now if the sigh that echoes in his ear is anything to go by.

His mind is spinning circles when they finally say their goodbyes, lists of pros and cons forming and expanding and jumbling his thoughts into an incoherent mess.

He doesn't have an answer, he's not even sure what to think of the question.

(What he does know is that Shouto's reaction will settle the internal debate he's been battling with since he was sixteen.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

And Izuku isn't sure if he'll ever be ready to pluck the last one.)

Here's the thing about secrets: Izuku doesn't keep them, not from Shouto (well, except maybe that big fat one he's been carrying around since practically the beginning.)

It's not long before Izuku is bowing under the weight of it, his stress level skyrocketing as he struggles his way through first semester. He's starting to look like Hitoshi with deep, purple bags under his eyes, and his book is long-forgotten halfway through chapter four. There's no time for free time between his heavy course load and tutoring and obsessing over Ochako's question and doing his best to spend as little alone time with Shouto as possible.

Of course, they're still roommates, they still see each other daily and go home to visit on the weekends. Shouto is busy too, volunteering at the youth center and working as the head of the Psych department's T.A., and doesn't seem to notice that Izuku is maybe-probably-definitely avoiding him.

(Or maybe he just doesn't care, he has been spending quite a bit of time with Yaoyorozu, who is tall and strong and intelligent and Izuku knows she's just the kind of person Shouto should fall in love with.)

By the time December rolls around, Izuku is a mess of over-caffeinated nerves and too many meals missed over deadlines and decisions he can't seem to make. He barely knows left from right, all he does know is he misses his best friend and he's tired of hiding.

So, he calls his mom, tells her about Ochako, his indecision, doesn't include his feelings for Shouto or the fact that he's been hiding them for years. (Doesn't know he doesn't have to for her to know they're there).

Inko tells him it's up to him, whatever he decides, she will support him. That doesn't help, and she can apparently hear the defeat in his sigh because she heaves a small one of her own and ends with-

"Izuku, sometimes the choice that seems the safest isn't always the right one. It's okay to take a chance, I think you might be happy with the result."

It's cryptic and when he asks what she means she just says she promised not to mettle. Then she's saying "I love you" and "see you next week" and "bye" and hanging up before he has a chance to ask again.

If Ochako is the "safest choice" then there's only one person she could be talking about.

Her words play over and over in his head for a couple of weeks, especially that last part. His mom is wise and he trusts her, of course, but this is different. This is Shouto and too much on the line and he's scared.

A week goes by and he barely sees Shouto in passing, one of them always rushing out the door as the other enters and he's beginning to think Shouto might be avoiding him, too.

He's taken by surprise, then, when Shouto flings open the door of their dorm room in the middle of a blizzard and rushes inside with a pinkie extended toward him.

Izuku is seated at his desk where he's been mindlessly staring at the golf ball-sized snowflakes, what must be his 200th pros and cons list half-finished in front of him. He scrambles to cover it at the sound of the door and his stomach drops at the sight of the pinkie.

He gulps and meets Shouto's hard gaze, but Izuku sees nerves in the twitch of his brow and the quiver of his lips and finds himself hooking their pinkies together before he has a chance to panic.

(It's not like he could've refused even if he'd wanted to.

Shouto called the game and Midoriya will always accept the challenge. Even if they'd grown out of the necessity for it years ago- well, maybe they hadn't done very much growing, after all.)

Shouto's shoulders relax in relief and a small smile finds its way to his lips as they curve around the words.

"Secret for a secret?"

Izuku gulps and nods, waiting for Shouto to take his turn.

He's surprised again when a blush crawls onto Shouto's cheeks and the corners of his lips turn up a little, not quite a smile, and not really a smirk. Whatever it is, it's cute, but Izuku will not let himself be distracted. Shouto has something to tell him and Izuku has a couple of somethings he absolutely does not want to talk about.

With a small cough, Shouto clears his throat. He's not looking at Izuku, but their fingers are still hooked together when he says, "I have feelings for someone."

All at once, Izuku's heart begins to beat out of his chest just as all the color in his face drains away.

He thinks he might be having a heart attack and the panic he'd done so well to hold back comes flooding out as his voice shakes with his failing effort to remain calm, "y- you do?! I mean, that's great! Feelings are great! I thought maybe you and Yaoyorozu, but she also seems to favor Jirou and you never know really. If it's not Yaoyorozu, then I bet she's amazing…"

"He."

"Wh- what?"

"You said she, but he's amazing."

This time, Izuku thinks he really might actually die. His heart is jackhammering a hole into his ribcage and his pulse is ringing in his ears and he might vomit because Shouto… likes a boy. He likes a boy and it's not Izuku. If it were he'd just say it, that's how Shouto is, speaks his mind, no matter the consequence.

There's a voice in his head screaming "why not me?" and their brief almost something at the beach this summer is playing in his head on repeat, but he locks it behind a wobbly smile. Still, the high pitch of his voice squeaks as he manages a "t-that's great, Shouto! Whoever he is, I can't wait to meet him!"

Shouto's face relaxes at that and there's light in his eyes and that smirk on his lips as he chuckles a little at Izuku.

"You already have."

Izuku's brow knits together in confusion, Shouto's never been very close to any of their other friends, and Izuku can't remember any of the classmates Shouto's introduced him to in passing over the years being particularly memorable.

"I have?"

The squint of Shouto's eyes and coy smile on his face tease Izuku as he nods his head at him.

"Mhmm."

"Are you going to tell me who it is?"

Shouto seems to consider that, his eyes scanning Izuku's face like he's looking for something, and Izuku feels raw, exposed. Like Shouto is finally seeing all of the things he's never been brave enough to say.

The mischief in Shouto's eyes poorly conceals the uncertainty in them when he says, "maybe next time," with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Your turn."

With a deep inhale, Izuku readies himself. It's a double-edged sword, confess his feelings outright or admit the proposal and gauge his reaction.

Coward the voice in his head whispers when he opens his mouth, "Ocha asked me to marry her."

Shouto stiffens at that, his pinkie uncoiling from Izuku's as he sits up a little straighter and Izuku doesn't miss this flicker of disappointment in his eyes. There's hope igniting in his chest at the sight and premature butterflies flap their wings in his stomach when Shouto continues, "I didn't realize you two were seeing each other again."

"We're not- not, really. It was kind of sudden."

"...and you said yes?"

"I said I'd think about it. I honestly have no idea what to do."

Shouto relaxes a little at that, the tension in his gaze slipping, only to be replaced by a blank stare Izuku hasn't seen in years and for the first time in just as many, he's really not sure what Shouto is thinking.

"Do you want to marry Ochako?"

"I guess it's like- I don't not want to, but I've been going over the pros and cons and I just don't know."

"I don't think this is something you can decide with one of your lists. It's a matter of feeling, do you love her?"

There's no expression in Shouto's face when he asks, a singular tone to his voice, but Izuku has known him for a long time and there's a small something in Shouto's eyes pleading with him.

Izuku doesn't know what he wants him to say- doesn't know what to say, his brain working overtime as he scrambles to put the pieces together, to find the most logical conclusion.

It's all dead ends and cliche what if's, but Shouto is waiting for an answer with thin lips and undeserved patience and his eyes are full of what almost looks like hope. A hope that's always hidden behind carefully constructed walls, and Izuku is reminded-

This is Shouto, who knows him better than anyone, his oldest friend and confidante, his first love and he thinks, or maybe he knows, what Shouto was trying to tell him, maybe Shouto is scared too, maybe all of his dreams can come true and Shouto will kiss him and hold him and one day it will be Shouto standing across the altar from him. Maybe that's the happiness his mother alluded to.

He'll never know if he doesn't say, so he readies the words that have been sitting heavy on his tongue for years and…

Is interrupted by the sound of his ringtone.

His phone is behind him on the desk so he whips around and silences the call, noticing it's Fuyumi when the screen lights up. Shouto shrugs when he holds the phone up for him to see. It's not uncommon for his sister to call Izuku's phone when she can't get through to Shouto and this… this is important, so he sets it down and turns back to where Shouto is sitting, vulnerable in his stoicism.

He's hardly moved at all when the phone rings again and his eyebrows raise, turning back to see Fuyumi's smiling face looking back at him.

"Answer it and tell her I'll call her back," Shouto's voice comes out in a rush, eyes trained on Izuku as he fumbles to answer.

"Hello?"

"Izuku? Is Shouto with you?"

"I, he- yes. He's kinda busy, though. He'll call you back."

"No! Wait- Izuku," her voice is hurried and shrill as she begs him not to end the call, and it's enough to cue Izuku that something is not right.

"Is everything okay?" Izuku watches as Shouto's eyebrows shoot up at that, their previous conversation forgotten at the distress in his high-pitched tone.

"Can I please talk to Shouto?"

"O-of course."

His hand shakes and he nearly drops the phone as he pulls it from his ear and gives it to Shouto who cradles it against his own in a rush.

His voice is small when he greets his sister.

"Fuyu?"

Izuku can't make out what they're saying, but he watches as a shadow falls over Shouto's face, his eyes hard and dark, his lips a tight grimace. Listens as he argues, his voice little more than a murmur, so that Izuku only picks up words like "sick" and "hospital" and "how long" and he doesn't even realize when the tears start to fall from his eyes.

He knows without having to be told.

Rei-san

Shouto's gaze doesn't soften as he says goodbye and hangs up the phone.

He hardly mutters an "I need to go home" before he's picking up his keys and throwing on his shoes. He's almost made it out the door before Izuku has the chance to stop him.

"Wait- I'm coming with you," he says as he grabs Shouto's elbow and spins him around, wills as much warmth and support into his determined gaze as he can.

His face is unmoving, but there's pain evident in the way the light reflects off the sheen in his eyes as he turns back to the door, and his voice is small again when he whispers "please."

He waits, quiet and cold in the doorway, as Izuku grabs his things.

And when Izuku takes his hand once they've locked up their dorm room, he doesn't let go.

But the corners of his mouth do turn down a little and his shoulders slouch just slightly under the weight of what's to come.

Izuku hopes he can help him bear it.

He's still holding his hand on the overcrowded train to the hospital, their silence hanging heavy in the air between them.

When they arrive, Fuyumi and Izuku's parents are there, Inko wringing her hands together with tears in her eyes to match Izuku's.

He's holding his hand when Fuyumi says "collapsed" and "pneumonia" and "late." The doctors are doing what they can, but she's been put into a medically-induced coma, and her organs are failing rapidly.

He's holding his hand when they stand at the side of Rei-san's hospital bed, her eyes closed and a machine breathing for her. There are tears running down Izuku's face, but Shouto's eyes are dry, so he cries for both of them.

He's holding his hand as they stare listlessly at the television screen in the waiting room. Some late night infomercial is playing on a loop, but neither really feel like watching.

Nor do they feel like sleeping or talking.

Shouto doesn't at least, so Izuku holds his hand and they wait.

It's seven in the morning when the doctor comes back to remove the breathing tube. If Rei-san doesn't start breathing on her own, well, then…

Izuku hopes she does, he's not ready to say goodbye.

Not to her soft smiles, or to the dulcet hum of her voice as she sings along to her favorite records, or to her cooking lessons, or even to the knowing look in her eyes when he catches her watching him and Shouto.

Shouto.

Shouto, whose hand is held tight in his as they stand by his mother's bedside, his empty, sunken eyes following the doctors every move as she reads the monitors and checks the IV.

Shouto, who loves his mother, who worked so hard to rekindle their relationship.

Shouto, whose known so much pain already, who deserves better than this.

Izuku can't see the tension in his perfect posture, the sorrow and confusion in the depths of his faraway gaze, but he's known Shouto long enough to know it's there anyway.

When the doctor asks if they're ready and Shouto nods his head, Izuku's grip tightens until his knuckles turn white, crushing Shouto's palm in his. It's a promise. An 'I'm here' in all the ways Shouto had been for Izuku's own loss.

Which, admittedly, pales in comparison to this.

Fuyumi sobs at the flatline of the heart monitor, eyes squeezed shut as she curls further into Emiko's chest.

Inko's tears fall and threaten to flood the room, so Yagi ushers them both out through puddles of his own making.

Izuku's are silent.

Shouto's are nonexistent. He's just staring, pale-faced and hollow-eyed at the hand sanitizer on the counter across the room.

(But his hand is still glued to Izuku's, and Izuku couldn't let go if he wanted to.)

They stay at home for the following week, informing their professors via email of a family emergency as Inko makes preparations for the funeral, for which Fuyumi is grateful.

Emiko is there as often as she can be, between business calls and meetings she's doing the dishes and vacuuming and holding Fuyumi while she cries.

(She really is wonderful and Izuku is glad for the neutral presence among the despair.)

Snow is still falling in thick flakes and hasn't let up since the day they went to the hospital. Christmas is just around the corner, but all the plans they had to celebrate are long forgotten.

Besides, it wouldn't be any fun to celebrate without Rei-san.

Still, the house smells like the holidays, his mom cooking up a storm even through her never-ending tears.

Yagi hovers around her as she flits about the kitchen, a constant shadow reassuring himself with her presence.

Neighbors stop by to offer condolences and casseroles and the television is always on even though nobody is watching, a comforting white noise to fill the mourning silence.

They stay at home for the following week and Shouto doesn't talk. Doesn't sleep. Doesn't cry.

He wouldn't eat if it weren't for a worried Inko setting a plate in front of him at every meal and demanding he take at least five bites before he excuse himself.

Izuku thinks if Shouto were here, he'd be embarrassed at the treatment.

But Shouto's not here, not really, just staring at the wall from his spot on the couch and Izuku doesn't know how to help.

So he takes the seat next to him, offers a hand and some company. Sometimes he chatters about nothing, and sometimes he watches the colors and shapes on the tv, not bothering to pay attention to the story. Always, he tries to dam the river of tears that won't stop coming.

He misses the gentle comfort of Rei-san's presence, the way her laughter tinkled like bells, the way she always seemed to know how to put a smile on Shouto's face.

He misses Shouto, too, wonders where he's gone off to, angry at himself that he can't bring him back.

His mom tells him he's doing his best, that people process at their own pace, that Shouto will be okay and all he needs right now is a friend.

Izuku isn't sure she's right this time.

(Besides, any hope he may have had fizzles out by the end of the week when Izuku holds out his hand and Shouto doesn't take it and the tiny fissures on his heart grow to cracks.)

The sun shines bright through the blinds in his bedroom, but Izuku is already awake, has been, unable to sleep while his mind works overtime worrying for Shouto and the day to come.

Izuku can't help but see the irony in the clouds once again parting for Rei-san. He doesn't even try to muster a smile on his tear-soaked face.

When he looks over and sees the sallow of Shouto's cheeks, the purple bruises framing his eyes, he can't help but think he'd give up the light forever if it meant they could have Rei-san back.

Inko makes pancakes for breakfast, but she also makes sausage, and toast, and eggs, and rice, and miso, and tamagoyaki. Izuku mostly pushes it around his plate as he keeps a watchful eye on Shouto and tries to pretend it's just like any other weekend at home.

Rei-san's empty seat at the table is a daunting reminder that it is not.

When Emiko offers to do the dishes, there are still five full plates on the table, but they can't sit around it in broken silence all morning, no matter how much they'd prefer to.

They are slow to get dressed, their suits pressed and hanging from the closet door.

Izuku struggles with his tie, fingers fumbling around a knot he can never seem to master. Usually, Shouto would shake his head and laugh a little at him then take the task into his own hands and Izuku would blush and try not to focus on their proximity.

Shouto's not paying him any mind though, and Izuku doesn't feel much like blushing, so he does his best to tuck away the too long tail and waits for Shouto to finish.

The six of them pile into the minivan and Emiko takes the driver seat, does her best to distract them all with a story about a business trip she took to Australia during swooping season.

Izuku's not really listening, but the soft sound of Fuyumi's laughter tinkles a little like bells and his eyes widen at it. He'd forgotten- or maybe never realized- Fuyumi had Rei-san's laugh until just this moment, and an unsteady, almost smile begins to form on his face as he peeks over at Shouto and sees Rei-san in the silver of his fine hair, the grey-brown of his right eye.

Rei-san is here; in her children, who loved her, in that old case record player, in the recipes she taught him. The wobble pulls tight into upturned lips and the tears keep falling as he looks up to find the sun and is glad for it, because Rei-san is here and it's shining just for her.

He turns to tell Shouto, a smile wide across his face, but it falters when he looks at Shouto's gaunt cheeks and the words run away from him.

He hopes one day he'll get to see Rei-san's teasing smirk on Shouto's face again.

The room is nearly empty, but flowers line every pew anyway, a large portrait of Rei-san propped on a stand in front of the closed casket.

Hayato-san is frowning as he greets them and Minoko from the bakery is sniffling in the corner.

Ochako couldn't make it and Izuku thinks it's probably best that she's not here. That's a mess for another day.

Izuku is surprised to see Ashido and Kaminari walk in, grief in their watery gazes as they take a seat. He's even more surprised when Kacchan and Kirishima come in behind them.

Aizawa arrives at the last minute with Hitoshi in tow, who slides into the seat on Izuku's left and gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as the ceremony begins.

It's nice that Shouto's friends have shown up to support him. They hadn't spent much time with Rei-san, just a few random get-togethers when everyone was in town during break, but it didn't take much for Rei-san to win them over.

Her soba alone could end a war, he's sure of it.

Still, there aren't many people here, and his mother's voice echoes when she clears her tear-clogged throat and begins to speak-

"Rei loved the winter, loved watching the snow fall, loved the cold, but she especially loved Christmas. When Izuku was young we never bothered to celebrate, it was just the two of us and it's a western holiday anyway. It didn't seem worth the trouble. Well, what do you know, my boy is almost grown and along comes Rei after all of the awful hardships life had thrown at her and the first of December she's knocking down my door with an armful of Christmas tree like Santa Claus himself!"

A few chuckles sound around the room and even Izuku cracks a little smile at the memory of Rei-san, decked out in red and green, standing at the door with a tree bigger than herself.

"...She introduced us to Christmas carols and hallmark movies and sugar cookies and, once the day finally came and I got a chance to look around my living room, packed full with a beautiful, family that had miraculously fallen into my lap, well... I don't think I've ever felt so much love in my entire life. Rei was my best friend, my sister, even if only for the briefest time, but she will always be here, in the sun on a snowy day, in Christmas, in Shouto and Fuyumi..."

Izuku is grateful and not even a little surprised when his mom's words reflect his own revelation. He is her son, after all, but she had always been better at putting thoughts into coherent sentences and Izuku is glad Shouto got to hear it from someone.

He chances a glance at Shouto from the corner of his eye and startles a little when he sees the faintest hint of sorrow in his gaze. It's not much, but it's a start.

Fuyumi follows his mom and tells the story of the day Rei-san came back, paints a picture with lines about dancing and joy. There're a few bits about mistakes and forgiveness, and Izuku catches Shouto sitting up a little straighter at that, but there's a wariness to any relief he might feel because his hand still sits empty between them and Shouto's face is still mostly blank.

It's a shock then, when Fuyumi sits back down and it is Shouto standing up, Shouto walking to the front, Shouto opening his mouth to speak and Izuku could probably drown in the tears that fall from his soggy eyes.

Shouto's own eyes are downcast when he begins, his voice little more than a low murmur so Izuku has to lean forward in his seat to hear.

"When I was young, there was one spot of light in a life full of darkness, but the light was put out and, for many years, I knew nothing but the dark. I wished for the light, even though it had hurt me, believed that I had been the one to put it out. I was lucky then, to be saved from the darkness, and when I met the light again, I was afraid. What if I put it out? But it was the light that apologized and, as I got to know the light, I wasn't afraid anymore. In fact, I loved the light again, even more than I once had when the whole world was dark save for that one spot."

Izuku's breaths are shallow as he hangs on to every word coming from Shouto, and they stop altogether when Shouto looks up and meets his gaze. His brow is furrowed in determination and Izuku's grateful for the tears that keep his eyes wet because he can't even let himself blink, too afraid that the moment will end and he will lose Shouto to the dark once more.

"I didn't get my mother back for very long, and I didn't get to know her as well as I should have. This time, the light didn't leave me in the dark, but it is much less bright without her around. I regret the time I didn't spend with her, and there are only so many chances, so keep your loved ones close because lights go out in the blink of an eye."

An exhale Izuku hadn't realized he'd been holding escapes as Shouto finishes speaking, and he can finally see recognition in Shouto's eyes whose determination begs Izuku to hear what he is saying as he completes the eulogy.

It was beautiful, and sad, and honest, and Izuku is still crying as the words stick in his head like an overplayed song.

He plays them backward and forward, mixes them up and puts them back together, but the sentiment is always the same.

It doesn't really matter what it means anyway. Even if he's gotten it wrong, he doesn't want his light to go out before he's had the chance to feel its warmth.

(Ah, there's that courage he's been waiting for.)

Hours later, after the funeral, they're on the porch swing at his parent's house. Shouto sits next to him, but neither speak, both dragging their toes along the ground as the seat idly sways back and forth in the wind. Izuku is staring at his clasped hands, picking at his cuticles, examining the small cuts and calluses littering his palms, doing anything at all not to look up at Shouto.

He's still mulling over Shouto's speech- remembers his own promise to himself. Izuku knows it's bad timing- confessing that you're in love with your best friend to said friend on the day of his mother's funeral is tacky at best, morbidly inappropriate at worst- but… but he's taken the words that fell from those mourning lips, the determined way that Shouto held his gaze, imploring him to listen and understand, to heart.

There's never going to be a perfect time. It's now or never, because life's like that, there's no rhyme or reason and every little bit is important.

His mouth sets in a thin line and it's his brow lowering in determination, his hands balling into fists. He's turning toward Shouto and opening his mouth to speak-

"You should say yes." Shouto's not even looking at him, but there's resolve behind the ever-present sorrow in his tone and Izuku's words stumble over themselves as they come to a sudden halt and he hopes that Shouto's first words to him in almost a week aren't about…

"To Ochako."

He looks up then, and over, meets Izuku's watery gaze with a determined resignation as he continues, "I meant what I said, earlier. Life is short and we should spend it with those we care about. You and Ochako are meant to be, anyone can see it. You deserve to be happy, Izuku."

Izuku's heart erupts in his chest and a voice in his head screams no, you're my happiness, but logic chimes in, as it always does and this, this is a rejection. Izuku knows. No one who might-maybe-hopefully be in love would compose a speech about the brevity and sorrow of life and importance of loved ones only to tell said person to marry someone else a few hours later.

Shouto isn't in love with him.

It hurts so much more than he thought it would.

Shouto is looking at him expectantly, waiting for a reply, but Izuku's mouth is dry and his head is swimming and he's finally stopped crying, but Izuku thinks it might be worse as his eyes ache and no tears fall.

He barely manages to swallow and nod, pushes out a strained "oooo- kay" with the last sliver of himself that's somehow still hanging on even though the rest of him is scattered across the floor.

shattered

Shouto nods and turns his gaze back to the setting sun. Any other day, Izuku might be reminded of a beach, of how pretty Shouto looks with the pinks and oranges reflecting off his light hair.

As it is, he can't really see anything, his eyelids are heavy and his ears are buzzing and someone's reached into his chest and ripped it open, leaving him raw and exposed.

gutted

He has to get out of here, run away before he embarrasses himself before he just gives up and begs Shouto to love him as much as Izuku always has.

He doesn't even bother with an excuse as he leaps off the swing and bolts for the door, races up the stairs two at a time and rips open his bedroom door. With a bang, it slams shut behind him and he can't bother to bring himself to care.

Despite the dizzying ache of his head from the tears that won't come, Izuku makes it into his bed, wraps the covers over his head and turns over to face the wall.

There's a drawing of Captain America he'd done in magic marker when he was six on the wall in front of him, and his fingers trace over it.

At four, he dreamed of being a hero, fighting villains, and saving the day. It was two years later that he discovered gymnastics and another six before he met Yagi.

He thinks about how he'd once loved gymnastics more than life itself. Would train and train to be the best, to prove them all wrong and show the world he could do it, to inspire like Yagi had.

He remembers the sour pit in his stomach and ache in his chest and the endless tears that fell over his premature retirement. Remembers how he thought he'd rather die than feel that way. Remembers that what had once been the most pain he'd ever experienced is little more than a dull sting when his ankle acts up, or a wistful look in his eyes when they pass by Yuuei.

He thinks if he could get through that, then he can get through this because, at the end of the day, he'd rather have Shouto as his best friend than nothing at all.

(He also thinks that the emptiness in his chest and his clogged tear ducts and that voice in his head screeching "he doesn't love you" is much, much worse.)

Well, if the voice is right (and Izuku is certain it is, now), then Shouto is right, too and he should marry Ochako. She's one of his best friends, after all, and they had been happy together. There's no one else he can see himself ending up with, and he doesn't really care anymore, anyway. She wants to marry him, so, he'll say yes.

(He doesn't want to think about the fact that, really, it's because Shouto wants him to.)

Eventually, his heaving chest calms and his eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion from the tumultuous day, tumultuous week, really, catches up to him all at once and he's asleep before he has a chance to register he's tired.

It doesn't last long though, the soft rustle of the door opening over the carpeted floor startles him out of his accidental nap.

When he looks up, the darkness is disorienting through the sleepy fog still lingering in his brain, but his gaze settles on the outline of Shouto standing in the middle of the room with two hands up like he's trying to calm a wild animal.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and Izuku bites down hard on his lip when it all comes crashing back to him and he knows the apology is for more than waking him.

"I didn't mean to overwhelm you- I- I know it's a terrible day, I just. I don't want you to feel like this."

It's too late, whispers the muffled voice in Izuku's head, but Shouto looks so sad and vulnerable and broken and Izuku can't stand it.

So, he glues the pieces of his heart back together, shoves it into in his ribcage, sews up his chest, and sits up with arms wide open for Shouto, who stumbles into them, wraps his own around Izuku's waist, and buries his head in his shoulder as he clutches onto him for dear life.

Izuku pets his hair and holds him tight as Shouto finally cries, sobbing, wet and loud, and Izuku doesn't care that his shirt is soaked or that his dry eyes itch and burn with the tears that won't come because Shouto needs his best friend now, and Izuku will always always be there for him.

It's not long before Shouto's cries have turned to slow inhales and exhales that whistle through tear-soaked lips as he falls asleep like that, curled up in Izuku's lap as he rests against the headboard. Izuku doesn't have the heart to wake him, not now that he's finally getting some sleep after a full week without it.

So, even though it hurts, and is probably a little more than selfish of him, when his thoughts begin to fuzz over and he's struggling to keep his eyes open, he lets himself fall. Just this once, he'll get to hold Todoroki Shouto close.

(When he wakes up the next morning to an aching neck and a lonely room, the hole inside him expands until it's swallowing him alive and he can't breathe and he's choking and… and Shouto doesn't love him, but the world hasn't ended and he needs to do like his mother always taught him, take a deep breath and keep living. He might not get to stand across from Shouto, but at least he'll still be standing right there next to him.

He might not let him hold his hand anymore, but Izuku tells himself that being his best friend is enough.

So he grits his teeth against the pounding in his head and bile in his throat, and calls Ochako- doesn't even try to match her tears of joy at his acceptance.

He wonders if he'll ever be able to cry again at all.)

 **(A/N: Well, I mean, I didn't say Izuku has good reasons, but logic often has little bearing on love and he's letting his anxiety do the talking.**

 **Shouto's aren't any better, but we'll get to those soon.**

 **Also! Reiiii I'm so sorry to kill you off for the plot. I've had this planned since this became a multi-chapter fic, but that doesn't mean it was a fun chapter to write. Honestly, I hated it and don't love the way it turned out, but I did my best.**

 **Oh! And! A couple questions:**

 **Would anybody be interested in betaing the rest of this fic for me? You will get an exclusive preview and my eternal gratitude!**

 **Would anybody like a link to the spotify playlist I have going for this fic? It's p low-key and sad, but I like it.**

 **Please answer in the comments below!**

 **Finally- cheese, will I ever shut up?- thank you so much for reading, this dumb thing means a lot to me and I am just as big of a flustered blushing mess as Izuku over every comment, so please leave 'em if you want to.**

 **Or not, I'll write it either way.**

 **You can yell at me at .com**

 **(I've been cooking up some pretty goofy early '00s reality TV show AUs over there while procrastinating on this fic, so come on over if you want to laugh at my cracky headcanons)**

 **Okay! That's it, thank you thank you thank you again. See you next time!)**


	11. Shouto: The Truth It Might Be

**A/N: This has been sitting for a week now and I can't help myself any longer, so here you go. Extra long because I can I guess.**

Soft pastels flood in through the balcony window and paint the usually stark white walls in sunset hues, temporarily muting their sterility and offering something like warmth to a home that's always felt ice cold.

Dinner is done and Shouto's preparing to feed his impatience with romance and drama and World War II- or something- when his phone rings.

His sigh is more of a groan, but he picks it up anyway, hopes it's a witness returning his call.

He's no less disappointed when he sees it's Midoriya and doesn't bother to suppress a smile as he leans back into the couch and his thumb taps the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Shouto! What are you up to?"

"I was just sitting down to watch a movie, actually-"

"So, you're home! Great!"

A knock sounds at his door and echoes in the phone pressed to his ear.

"Uh- mind if I come over? Because I'm kind of already here."

Shouto shoots up at that, wishing he wasn't wearing his rattiest sweats and oldest t-shirt, but, really, who's he trying to impress anyway?

"Yes! I mean, no- not at all. Here," Shouto stutters into the phone as he fumbles to the door and pulls it open.

He's not expecting to be greeted by a tree. It's a rather large, round tree, the terracotta pot of which is held in a pair of familiar scarred hands.

Shouto's eyes widen a little when he sees that the left one is still bare.

"...what?" He manages through his confusion.

"Ah! Hi Shouto! I got this for you! A little housewarming gift, since I still haven't gotten you one."

"I didn't have a housewarming party and I've lived here for a little over a year." Shouto deadpans as he ignores the way his heart skips at the giggle that shakes the leaves of the tree. "But thank you for the… tree?"

"Ah, yeah. Well, I was walking home from the train station and there's this flower shop around the corner, yeah?- You've probably seen it- Anyway, this was out front and it just looked so happy -is that weird, that's probably weird- whatever. So, I started to think about how nice this would look in someone's home and then I remembered that you have really great natural light at your place and I thought- well, maybe you would like to have this."

Shouto suppresses a chuckle when Midoriya bows and extends the plant forward, "I hope this brings happiness to your home."

It's so cute and so Midoriya and he doesn't trust himself to say anything, so he doesn't, just takes the large pot from Midoriya's outstretched hands.

"Not to insinuate your home isn't happy! I'm sure it is! I mean you're here, after all." Red rushes up Midoriya's face when he says it and there's a leaf sticking out of his hair. Shouto is torn between fawning over how ridiculously adorable flustered Midoriya can be and begging his heartbeat to slow down.

"ANYWAY," Midoriya cries with finality, his arms flying through the air before coming to a rest at his sides. Then he's leaning into the room and Shouto watches as deep, green eyes land on the television screen. "Whatcha watchin'?"

"Casablanca," Shouto replies, short and to the point. Midoriya is looking at him and there's expectance in the way he's holding Shouto's gaze. The weight of the plant in his hands is heavy, but not as heavy as the impulse he feels to run before he… "Midoriya, would you like to join me."

Shouto doesn't regret it when Midoriya's smile lights up his whole face as he nods with vigor.

"I love Casablanca! It's such an epic way to tell a love story. Did you know Rick doesn't actually say 'play it again, Sam?' It's incredible that so many people misremember it, like, that _is_ the Casablanca line but only because it was misquoted on a big enough platform- or maybe by enough people- that it just stuck. Plus it just… sounds good, right?"

If Shouto wasn't well-practiced in Midoriya's unique brand of rambling, he might be overwhelmed. As it is, he just quirks an eyebrow in confusion. He also has no idea what any of that actually meant and the deja vu leaves him a little dizzy.

"I haven't seen it yet."

Midoriya's excitement only grows, "even better! But I'll- uh- refrain from giving too much away."

"Thank you, I'm going to put this down, make yourself at home." Shouto isn't sure Midoriya is the person he should be watching this with, considering the means of how Shouto was introduced to the film. Still, he's always glad for Midoriya's company, even if it hurts later, and feeling practically giddy in this moment. Though the neutral set of his face says otherwise, the heavy pot in his arms is the only thing keeping him from shaking.

He chooses a spot in the middle of the far wall, where it can get the most of the fading sunlight that filters in through the glass door of his balcony. When he steps back to take it in, he thinks Midoriya is right, it is a happy plant, standing tall and green in the dwindling evening light.

"I was just about to eat dinner as well, would you like some?"

"Yes, please!" Midoriya calls from the spot on the couch where he's made himself comfortable without any prompting from Shouto. Something's caught his attention and he doesn't turn to look at Shouto over the back of the couch as he says it. Shouto doesn't mind, just enjoys the ease of Midoriya's presence as he heads to the kitchen to fill a second plate.

He's quick to return to the living room, two plates in hand as he realizes Midoriya is reading the copy of Wuthering Heights Akari leant him. The copy with all of the notes comparing and contrasting the story to his own. The copy that is now in the hands of Midoriya and Shouto's stomach is turning at the sight. He's only a few pages in and Shouto is begging the universe to give him a break as he hopes Midoriya hasn't shuffled through the pages and discovered the annotations that start in chapter seven.

Please.

He tries to be subtle about the relieved sigh that escapes when it's Midoriya's signature, welcoming smile that greets him, and he can't find anything awry there. Midoriya doesn't seem to notice he's acting strange, or comment on it, at least. He does however, pull his lips up into a smirk and raises his brow, questions written all over his face. So, Shouto sighs again and sets the plates on the coffee table, takes a seat on the sofa and tucks a leg under himself as he turns to face Midoriya.

"Wuthering Heights, too? Wanna talk about why you're suddenly so interested in classic romantic tragedies?"

For once, the truth is the easiest answer, "Akari mentioned that she enjoys them, that's her copy of Wuthering Heights, and I thought it might be a good way to connect with her."

Shouto could melt at the fondness in Midoriya's eyes at his response, the small upturn of his lips.

"I know you're going to say you're just doing your job, but you should know that's really sweet. She doesn't seem- I've never seen her willingly interact with someone, but I'm not surprised she was drawn to you."

Shouto bites his lip and holds the denial on his tongue.

Midoriya can still read Shouto like a book, apparently, because he's quick to continue.

"I'm serious, Shou! You have a really calm presence, it's like, you're quiet, but it's never uncomfortable. You might not talk a lot, but you're welcoming in your own way. Sure you might be rude sometimes," he shoots Shouto a teasing smile as he says it, and Shouto bats at his arm in retaliation, "but there's nothing aggressive about you. Assertive maybe, but never cruel. And when you do talk, it's even better because you're so smart and funny and interesting and people like you. And that's why I'm not surprised."

He wags a finger in Shouto's face as he finishes and Shouto is too caught up in what is only three words away from a love confession to realize Midoriya has stopped talking and is staring at Shouto with heat in his cheeks.

Shouto doesn't even have a chance to admire the way the pink accentuates the freckles there because Midoriya is leaning forward, eyes darkening under heavy lids, and Shouto thinks _to hell with it_ , he wants and wants and in this one moment, he can have.

He doesn't think about Uraraka, doesn't think about how much it will hurt, or how much bigger their mess will grow.

He doesn't care. There's no past or future, just here and Midoriya's eyes are closing and Shouto's heart is about to beat right out of his chest, so his own lids follow and he's so close he can feel Midoriya's breath ghosting over his lips and it's perfect, it's everything, it's… just like that night.

It's enough to bring his thoughts to a screeching halt, and he fights a sigh at the relief that that's all it was.

Thoughts.

A long-suppressed imagination escaping in his moment of weakness.

(Relief, because, if he does that, he'll never have it again. Any of it.

It's happened before and he won't _can't_ let it happen again.)

When he's finally locked the gate on it, he finds Midoriya is still talking, lost on a tangent now. Something about putting all of the useless parents in the world on a spaceship and shooting them straight into the sun.

How he's found himself here eludes Shouto, having been too lost in fantasizing about a kiss that should never happen to hear the rest of his audible thoughts.

He will _definitely_ be calling Momo's colleague on Monday.

Now though, he's sitting here with his best friend and would like to enjoy himself, thank you very much.

"Isn't that a little unrealistic? I mean, I'm certain the government wouldn't lend us a spaceship knowing it would be destroyed, or even at all? And I, for one, do not have the time, patience or interest to learn how to not only build one, but learn to fly it."

Midoriya's a little startled at Shouto's interjection, but his eyes light up at the challenge.

"Well, it's certainly not _impossible_ , maybe it won't happen now or even in ten years, but, one day, it could. You have to dream big, Shou."

It's such a Midoriya answer that Shouto can't help but smile. It's small, as they always are, but the softness there is far from his usual smirk.

"Dream big, right. I'll remember that."

Midoriya rolls his eyes at Shouto's sarcasm, "anything's possible."

Shouto could say, "well, of course, you would say that," or some other quick quip, but he's still shaken from his earlier train of thought, and the sun is still setting behind them and bathing Midoriya in pink light, and... Shouto is getting a little lost again, so he changes the subject.

"Anyway, should we start the movie?"

Midoriya's head whips around like he's forgotten why he's here and Shouto laughs a little, "ye-yes! I'm so curious what you think!"

Shouto smiles and nods and grabs the remote from the coffee table, only just remembering their food is probably cold by now.

He hits play and grabs both plates, passing one to Midoriya as he leans back against the cushions and crosses his legs in front of him. Shouto follows suit, shoving rice into his mouth as the beginning credits roll and he does his best to catch his breath.

It's not long before he's so drawn into Rick and Ilsa and their star-crossed romance, that he almost forgets Midoriya is sitting next to him. Until that is, he feels a warmth pressed against his side and his palms start sweating when he chances a glance to his left and sees Midoriya has somehow managed to slide close enough that they're sharing a couch cushion, so close now that they are practically cuddling.

The heat in Shouto's cheeks is so hot he thinks he might actually be able to set the couch on fire. He has nowhere to go though, pinned between Midoriya and the arm of the couch, and Midoriya's eyes are still trained on the TV and shining as they watch Rick and Ilsa dance across the screen in black and white.

So, he takes a deep breath and settles in.

 _This is fine_ he thinks, even though he's sure Midoriya can feel the tremors wracking his body.

It's decidedly _not fine_ , but he's at the mercy of Midoriya, who he's never really been able to deny. Well, except that one time, and, if he's being honest, this entire mess might've been avoided had he just given in, but he couldn't. It was for the best, and he will not let himself regret it.

(Even if the truth is he'd regretted it the moment he stopped taking Midoriya's hand all those years ago and the look of despair on the other man's face had almost brought the tears that refused to fall.)

Shouto's so lost in his train of definitely-not-regret that he nearly misses the end of the movie, but it's Midoriya's loud sniffles that bring him back to the present and by the time the plane is taking off and Rick is spouting the last of a dozen iconic lines, Midoriya is full-on sobbing.

Shouto doesn't have to ask for an explanation before Midorya is spouting his thoughts through heavy tears and errant hiccups.

"It's just so sad! They love each other so much and the universe brought them back together only to tear them apart in the end."

And yeah, this one's closer and Shouto can't help but wonder how Akari possibly could've guessed with so little information.

Rick is still a better man than he is, though. He didn't run away with his tail between his legs in the end, pretending with all he has that Ilsa doesn't exist.

"Yes, but, Ilsa clearly had to go with Victor. It was bigger than either of them."

"I mean, yeah, obviously. He needed her and his role in the resistance was so important, but it doesn't make it any less devastating."

Midoriya's tears haven't stopped falling, but he's not sobbing anymore, just looking at Shouto like he's waiting for a response.

All Shouto has for him is a shrug and he can't bring himself to look him in the eyes when he says, "I guess sometimes you have to do what's right over what you want, no matter how much it hurts."

He's not sure he's actually talking about the movie anymore, and he doesn't think he's the only one when a sharp inhale sounds to his left. It's enough to draw his attention to Midoriya's face and he almost lets out a gasp of his own at the fresh tears falling out of sad, curious, green eyes.

For a moment, they are suspended in time, searching for something in each other's gaze that Shouto isn't sure he's ready to find.

Midoriya, for once, is the one to break it, shaking his head and wiping his eyes as he turns his attention back to the scrolling end credits.

Shouto does his best not to be disappointed, he made his choice ages ago.

So, instead of pressing an issue he's not ready to address, he grabs their empty plates from the coffee table and stands up.

Midoriya follows suit, stretching tall in his seat before standing up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess I should probably get going."

Shouto knows it's probably for the best, even if there's a part of him that wants to fall to his knees and beg Midoriya to stay. That's not like him though, so instead, he walks the plates to the sink.

"Okay. I should probably head to bed soon anyway, early practice tomorrow."

Shouto doesn't have to see Midoriya's face to note the way he brightens up at the statement, it's laced through his tone.

"Oh yeah! Well, I'll see you tomorrow then!"

Shouto turns around in time to find him slipping on his shoes and pulling the door wide open. The statement is enough to dissolve that heavy pit of disappointment that had been growing in his stomach.

"See you tomorrow."

He's expecting Midoriya to leave at that, his shoulders already slouching with emotional exhaustion, but he perks back up the moment Midoriya whips his head around, pink on his cheeks and sheepish smile on his face.

"Oh yeah, can I get a ride?"

It's 7:30, dark grey clouds hang heavy in the sky as Shouto waits in his car with the engine running. Izuku promised five more minutes when he'd texted him that he'd arrived and Shouto is beginning to feel like he maybe should have said no.

(Who is he kidding, he does not, has never, had the willpower to say no to one Midoriya Izuku.)

He watches the clock as five minutes go by, then ten, and, finally, after twelve painfully long minutes in which rain started to fall and Shouto changed the radio station just as many times, a flurry of dark hair and duffel bags comes flying out the front door of the building.

Shouto is so anxious about the time that he almost misses the way Midoriya's leggings cling to him and accentuate the well-defined muscles there.

He definitely wishes he hadn't noticed, and he's doing his best to cool the heat in his cheeks and think of anything besides his impending death courtesy of Midoriya's thighs when Midoriya yanks the door open and falls into the passenger seat.

Shouto is driving away the moment the door clicks shut, already nervous about the twelve minutes he's lost. He really hates being late.

"Sorry! My mom called. She's been going through my old room- she wants to turn it into a craft room. I guess she's finally accepted that I moved out, I mean it's been, like, ten years since I lived at home. Anyway, she found this old picture from when I was a baby and called me crying and then spent like ten minutes regaling me with stories of my childhood and I couldn't calm her down or get a word in…"

Shouto can't help the laugh that escapes at the irony of Midoriya's words. Like mother, like son, he supposes, _knows_ really, two years isn't long enough for him to forget the Midoriya's signature ramble, much like their signature tears. Listening to him recount his mother's stories in that rushed, quiet way of his is enough to distract Shouto from his anxiety as he squints through the rain pounding against the windshield.

It's definitely better than the radio.

Though he's the driver, he's surprised when the large building that houses Yuuei gym comes into view and he's pulling into the parking lot. Time having flown by at the hands of Midoriya, who is still talking.

"...so, Yagi finally took the phone from her and said she had to go, but she still managed to get one more story in- oh! We're here! That was fast."

It's 7:59 now, and technically they aren't late, but it's late for Shouto, especially considering he was going to try to catch Akari before practice.

As it is, he only offers Midoriya a nod as he rushes out of the car and into the rain, Midoriya trailing behind him with laughter on his lips.

"You know Aizawa won't mind that we are… actually right on time, right?"

"It's not about Aizawa," Shouto responds, his breath rushing out in a huff as his wet bangs stick to his forehead, "it's about principle."

Midoriya is full-on laughing behind him now. The sound has bubbles popping in his chest and he's doing his best to ignore them as he glares back at him from over his shoulder.

"Oooookay, but you're still not late."

"No, but I _was_ hoping to chat with Akari and get myself settled before practice starts."

"...oh."

Shouto didn't mean to snap, and he really isn't upset with Midoriya, they aren't technically late and he will probably have a chance to check in with Akari after practice. He feels a little sick as shame pools in his stomach.

So he stops just as he's reached the door, underneath the awning and out of the rain, and turns back to find Midoriya right behind him, cheeks pink and eyes downcast as the pit grows and threatens to swallow him whole.

"I'm sorry, Midoriya. I'm feeling very grouchy this morning."

It's spoken in monotone, but he knows it's enough when sparkling eyes meet his own.

"Like you've ever been a morning person." Midoriya teases and the pit dissolves with a weighted exhale.

"I'm not that bad," he pouts as he pulls the door open and waits for Midoriya before following him in.

"Right, so I just imagined that time you almost punched me in the face because I ate the last of the good cereal and you had to settle for a bowl of Yagi's Raisin Bran."

"In my defense, whoever thought it was a good idea to turn grapes- a perfectly delicious fruit, into those weird, wrinkly, chewy _things_ committed a crime against humanity."

"Point proven, and raisins aren't that bad."

"Speak for yourself-"

Someone clears their throat and both of their heads whip up to find that they were so lost in raisin discourse they didn't even realize they'd entered the main gym.

The main gym which is currently full of Midoriya's students and Shouto's client. Shouto catches Shinsou watching them with a straight face and rise to his brow. To his left, Aizawa looks bored as ever, and across the room, Akari is staring at him, a question in her eyes.

He manages a tiny shake of his head in her direction, but the determination written on her face only strengthens and, not for the first time, he's reminded of a certain dark-haired man who's currently standing next to him looking just as flustered as himself.

Lucky for them, Aizawa is more than practiced in their antics, and somehow manages to ignore them entirely.

"As I was saying, we're working on Regionals routines today. The majority of you will be split into three groups and assigned to one of the instructors. Akari, since you're in a different age group, you'll be working with Shouto today."

Shouto's eyes widen a little as he watches a few of the other girls gasp and glare in Akari's direction and doesn't miss Midoriya's stray laugh to his right. When his gaze finds Akari, she's got an almost smile on her face and is giving him a thumbs up.

It's then he realizes the bandages from Monday are gone, but there are still very faint, yellow bruises that look suspiciously like fingerprints on her forearm. They're light enough that others probably won't notice, but Shouto has seen bruising like that, on himself and past clients, and he's practiced in spotting them.

His throat goes dry at the sight, but Akari's thumb is still in the air and she almost seems excited and it's enough for Shouto to send her a small smile and a thumbs up of his own.

"...and that's all I've got for you. Now get to work."

Shouto must've stood there for a moment too long because Midoriya leans over and nudges him with his shoulder.

He looks up to find concerned green eyes waiting for him.

"You okay?" He whispers as his students begin to flock across the room to him.

Shouto swallows down any doubts that might be crawling to the foreground and nods.

"I- yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking a little too hard."

Midoriya's shoulders seem to relax at that. "Ah yeah, I know about that. Well, looks like Akari is already stretching. You're gonna do great. Plus Ultra!"

Shouto smiles as Midoriya's fist raises in the air and he relaxes a little at it.

Really, it's the perfect opportunity to get to know Akari a little better, but he also knows the direction their conversation will inevitably take, and he'd maybe rather not discuss the object of his unrequited affection while in the same room as said person.

Still, it can't be helped and Midoriya is already focused on his group, so he scans the room for blonde hair and, sure enough, finds her stretching on a mat in the back corner.

So, with a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and heads over.

Akari is bouncing a little on her heels by the time Shouto makes his way to the mat. Her bright blue eyes are sparkling as she waits for him, and the moment he's within hearing distance she's tugging on his sleeve and whispering fast and low.

"So, it's not Cathy and Heathcliffe then?"

He smiles despite himself and shakes his head no, "-or Rick and Ilsa, but that one was closer."

He watches as Akari bites her bottom lip and her eyes glaze over a little, "hmm, closer how? Why not Cathy and Heathcliffe? I need details!"

"I brought your book back. I took notes, you'll have to study them later. For now, you should be working on your floor routine."

Akari groans a little at that, but takes a few steps back anyway. "Okay, but this is not over."

Shouto can't help but chuckle. She's a funny and surprising kid and he really hopes he can help her.

"Okay, now show me what you've got so far."

Shouto is surprised to find that he's enjoying himself. He's never really had a hand in coaching, was never that committed to gymnastics in the first place, but Akari is a more than competent student who's constructed most of her routine on her own anyway. He can't help but enjoy the swelling in his chest when he offers a suggestion and she accepts it with newfound vigor.

He wonders at how he ever thought he could be like his father, forcing perfection with cruel words and a heavy hand. He can't imagine meeting Akari's missteps and shuffling feet as she learns the routine with anything but patience. It's not frustrating to watch her learn, it's fascinating, amazing even. She really is very good, could probably go all the way if she wanted to.

That's the other thing, he knows she doesn't want to, and the stakes aren't very high for either of them, so he settles in and savors the swell in his chest and smile on his face as they work out her steps, practice her leaps and rolls and turns, and even discuss music options.

It's a surprise then, when Aizawa calls for a cool down and Akari does one last handspring before picking up her right heel and stretching her quads.

Not even ten seconds pass before she's hounding him about his love life again.

"Okay- so I think I get the Wuthering Heights thing, I mean, you don't _really_ seem like a Heathcliffe and there's a lot of dying and jealousy and again you and Deku are obviously softer than that."

"Right." Is all Shouto manages through the hint of pink on his cheeks and the breath caught in his throat at her surprisingly apt analysis.

"But it's not Casablanca either? I mean I guess the fate of World War II isn't in the hands of Deku's wife but… the feelings? Is it those meant to be feelings- because we all know Rick and Ilsa are like _meant to be_."

Shouto's a little taken aback by that. It's true he can relate to those feelings, but he doesn't know about meant to be. If he and Midoriya were meant to be then all those roadblocks that had kept them apart wouldn't have been.

No, it's- "actually just the fact that the two had history and met again by chance at a bar."

Akari seems to perk up at that, moving to the floor to stretch her calves, "okay, that's actually really helpful. I made you a list, by the way."

Shouto's brow rises as he watches Akari scramble up off the floor and to her bag. She pulls out a stack of papers and rushes back over before he even has a chance to respond.

"A list?" He manages as she shoves the papers into his hands. It's three sheets of notebook paper filled out back to front.

"Yeah, of all the romantic tragedies that could possibly match your story!" She's bouncing again, there's a smile on her face and her eyes are big and wide and open as she watches him scan the list in his hand.

"This is- incredibly comprehensive."

"Yeah, well I wrote down everything I could think of."

He chuckles a little at her matter of fact tone. "You know, I don't think I'm the one whose supposed to have homework."

"Well, we have to figure out what we're dealing with if we wanna figure out how this thing is going to end."

"Oh" Shouto startles a little at her statement and finally looks up from the sheets in his hand "is that what we're doing?"

"Duh! We might even be able to keep it from becoming a tragedy!"

The hard set of Akari's brow screams determination, and Shouto can't seem to bring himself to tell her it's already too late. "That's a lofty goal."

Akari's hand lands on her hip, "well, we have to start somewhere!"

Suddenly, Shouto's mouth has gone dry and there's something caught in his throat as he refuses to acknowledge the little spark of hope igniting in his chest. So, he changes the subject before it can catch fire.

"How did you hear about all these anyway?"

When the light in Akari's eyes dims, when her smile falls, when her gaze meets the ground, Shouto thinks he'd feel bad for bringing it up if he were really just a regular coach.

He's not though, he's a social worker, and this is the subject of his current case. Sure, he's obviously pushed a button, but he knows how to gently coax important information out when necessary.

He doesn't have to say anything though, Akari surprises him again when she speaks up.

"My mom." She whispers at the ground, her small voice choked in sadness. "She um- I never met her, but she had a whole trunk of books and movies that I found in the attic. I don't think my Dad knows, I don't think he'd like it very much. But, they make me feel close to her."

Shouto is watching her carefully. She's yet to look up at him, and her voice is thick and heavy as she confesses. So, he's gentle when he responds.

"It must be really hard for you to grow up without her." He takes a deep breath before he continues, preparing himself to talk about something he never really has before, "my mother left when I was six, and… she passed away several years ago."

That's enough to get Akari to look up at him, her eyes shining and wet, "you, too?"

Shouto nods, "yes, but I did get to spend a few years with her and those memories are very precious to me. It's wonderful that you've found something that brings her to you."

"Yeah…" except she doesn't sound convinced, "I mean, I don't really know anything else about her. I kinda- do you ever feel like.. Ugh. sometimes I just feel like if she got to know me she wouldn't like me."

The way Akari's face has twisted into a scowl leaves Shouto's heart sinking, "what makes you think that?"

Akari pauses for a long time and Shouto waits patiently, knows she'll come around. Still, when she looks down again, digs her toe into the mat and whispers her answer, quiet and low, he almost misses it.

"I don't think my dad likes me and they were in love, right? They had their own romantic tragedy, so I just- I don't think she'd like me either."

Shouto's heart splashes into his stomach, but he does his best to maintain his composure.

This is it, though. He just needs a little more and it'll be enough. Akari pulls her gaze off the floor at that, looks him right in the eye and says, "I- I'm being silly. Sorry."

The hope ballooning in his chest deflates, but he's not ready to give up, "I don't think you're being silly, Akari. I think-"

A throat clears behind him and he watches Akari's eyes widen, sees a little fear crawl into them, so he follows her gaze and finds an older woman standing in the doorway with a scowl on her face.

He doesn't have a chance to say goodbye before Akari is rushing around him and out the door. The woman watches him for another moment, before swiveling around with her nose in the air.

 _What_ Shouto thinks _was that?_

The clouds have cleared and the sun is shining high in the sky by the time Shouto makes it out to the parking lot, Akari's list tucked safely into his messenger bag next to the copy of Wuthering Heights he hadn't gotten a chance to return. Midoriya is leaning against the passenger side door of his car, reading something on his phone as he waits for him.

The wide smile he's wearing on his face when he looks up to greet Shouto falls the instant he takes in the sallow pallor of Shouto's face.

"You okay?" He asks again, and Shouto wonders how his answer could've changed so completely in such a short period of time.

Still, he is okay, if not disappointed and more than a little concerned.

"Ah, yes. We made a lot of progress today, but an older woman interrupted us."

"OH, yeah. That's Akari's nanny. She's actually terrifying."

A nanny makes sense, but it doesn't leave him any less frustrated.

"Hey! If it's any consolation, from an outsider's perspective you're making really great progress! Akari actually looked like she was having fun today and I've never seen her look so excited. There's always next week!" Midoriya offers, his smile back and bright as ever.

"Yeah, next week…" Shouto's voice trails off as he considers all of the ways he could've handled the situation better. Maybe if he'd shared more Akari would've opened up, maybe if he hadn't pushed her to continue, maybe if… there are always a million maybe if's, and, really, maybe if Shouto lets himself spiral he won't be able to help her at all.

He's grateful when Midoriya saves him from _that_ increasingly detrimental train of thought.

"Do you want to grab lunch? We usually go to this place around the corner on Saturdays."

There's so much hope brimming in the gaze Midoriya's planted on him that it almost stings, but his fate was decided long ago, and there's really nothing he can do about the butterflies flooding his stomach, or the fact that the flutter of their wings nearly has his feet lifting off the ground.

So, it's back to this, then. Torturing himself by pining over a taken man. He's reminded of the list in his bag and, for the first time, wonders if there really is a story there to match his own.

Midoriya was not exaggerating when he said the cafe was right around the corner. It only takes them five minutes to walk to the little hole in the wall situated underneath an old apartment complex. The only indication Shouto has that it is a cafe is the large sign over the door declaring it 'Firecracker Cafe.' Something about the name tickles at Shouto's memory, but he can't actually place it and knows he's never been here, so he shakes his head and enters when Midoriya opens the door for him.

(And decidedly does not blush at the gesture, absolutely not, no way. That's some other lovestruck fool dying over every little love kernel.)

He doesn't have time to take in the cafe before a chorus of "Shouto's" rings from the back corner and he follows the sound to find Kaminari and Ashido seated with Shinsou at a long table.

They're waving him over with wide smiles and manic eyes and he knows he's in for trouble.

Midoriya's voice draws him back as he feels a breath on his ear and hopes Midoriya can't see the goosebumps growing on his neck.

"Sorry, I should've warned you, they sometimes join us for Sunday brunch."

Any thought he might've had about that is gone in the instant he feels a large hand on his lower back, putting just enough pressure there to guide him forward.

(That other guy's heart leaped out of his chest at the gesture, but again, not Shouto, he's not _that_ pathetic- except he totally is.)

He sees the way his friend's eyes follow Midoriya's arm, sees them register the blush on his face, sees the smirks on Kaminari and Ashido's faces, and knows he's in trouble.

He breathes a sigh of both relief and disappointment when they make it to the table and the pressure on his back is relieved, only for him to pull out a chair for Shouto, and he's beginning to believe Midoriya is actually trying to kill him.

Any semblance of relief he might've felt is gone when he's enveloped in two pairs of arms, two bodies attaching themselves to him in a tight hug. There's blonde hair in his mouth and a puff of pink clouding his vision and they're both talking a million miles a minute so that he's only catching a word here and there.

'Disappeared' hits him particularly hard, but it's not like it's untrue.

His arms are pinned to his sides so he can't exactly pry them off, but they've been holding on for an uncomfortably long time, so he seeks green through the pink and scrunches his brow in a plea.

Midoriya laughs, of course, before pulling them off him one at a time.

"Come on, guys! Give him some breathing room!"

Ashido smiles and pats him on the head before sitting back down and Kaminari wiggles his brow as he also takes his seat.

"It's just been so long!"

"We're so happy to see you!"

"We were nothing without our best hot and cold boy!"

"But now you're back!"

"And our hearts are complete!"

Shouto wonders for a moment if they practiced that perfect delivery, but he's known them a long time, or used to know them, at least, and it seems not much has changed.

Though certainly overwhelming, Shouto's chest warms at their antics. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the real-life Jessie and James (a comparison made one late night during senior year after he and Midoriya spent an entire weekend bingeing the Pokemon anime instead of studying for finals or sleeping).

"It's good to see you." He says through a smirk, small and warm.

When Ashido's head hits the table with a groan and Kaminari melts into his seat, Shouto joins in Midoriya and Shinsou's laughter.

"He's just so beautiful!"

"That dimple though!"

"Izuku, you're so lucky!"

"What I wouldn't give to be in your shoes!"

Shouto's laughter stops the moment Midoriya's does and he chances a glance at him through his peripheral. There's a deep red blossoming on his face and his eyes are wide in what seems to be shock. Shouto's sure his own face mirrors Midoriya's and he doesn't even know where to begin with those comments, with the insinuation that Midoriya is something to him, and this time the butterfly wings beating against his ribcage burn.

"I- I h-have to use the restroom. I'll be right back!" Midoriya cries as he scurries away from the table and towards the swinging doors across the room.

He wishes he could be grateful, wishes that the conversation would dissolve into something a little less chaotic, but the smirk on Shinsou's face says he's not helping him and he doesn't expect Kaminari and Ashido to stop just because Midoriya is no longer around to tease.

He's still there, after all.

"So, Shouto, tell me-"

Ashido doesn't have time to finish that sentence because the swinging doors are slamming against the wall and a very familiar blonde with amber eyes and a permanent scowl is stalking toward the table.

He's got a finger pointed at Shouto and he looks angrier than usual and 'Firecracker' suddenly makes sense.

This is Bakugou's cafe.

And that is Bakugou Katsuki storming up to him, Bakugou Katsuki screaming in his face, Bakugou Katsuki _telling him to leave._

"... I'm not putting up with this shit again. I had to watch you fuckers dance around each other for years and I'm not doing it again. You _left_ and I thought the bullshit was finally over. What the fuck are you even doing here?! Come around to break that fucking idiot's heart again?! And don't look at me like that, you asshole, you have no fucking right! You weren't the one who had to step in when Deku's best man just fucking up and disappeared, you didn't have to get his crying ass to the ceremony, you BROKE him and I won't let you come back and do it all again!"

"I-I…" If it were any other day, any other subject, Shouto would have rolled his eyes, made some flippant remark, and then ignored Bakugou for all he's worth, just for the satisfaction of bringing him down a peg or two. As it is, Shouto doesn't have a response, it's not like he hasn't thought all of those things himself. He left to give Midoriya a chance, and now here he is, making their mess even bigger.

"And now what? You think you finally have a fucking chance? You've had your chance, Jackass, and you squandered it. You don't even fucking know Deku anymore! Have you even tried to get over him?! Or what? you've just been in love with this idea so long you can't let it go?! You're the worst, half-n'-"

He's cut off by the flurry of red hair and sharp teeth that comes through the swinging doors after him. There are arms wrapping around Bakugou's chest and a voice is telling him- "You have to stop, Katsuki!"

Shouto doesn't really register Kirishima Eijirou's presence or the fact that he's managed to halt Katsuki's rant. He's still stuck on the words coming from Bakugou's mouth and repeating in his mind.

You've just been in love with this idea for so long

You've just been in love with this idea

In love with this idea

Idea

And the truth is, Shouto doesn't know if it's true.

But he thinks it might be.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't acknowledge Kirishima's apology as he drags Bakugou away, doesn't see the concern written across the three sets of eyes on him, doesn't breathe.

He does push his seat back, does stand up from the table, and does walk out of the cafe on autopilot.

He's not hungry anymore, anyway.

He's nearly made it to his car when a heavy hand on his shoulder halts him in his tracks and he turns around to find green eyes full to the brim with unshed tears.

"Shouto?" Midoriya chokes, "I'm so sorry- I should've told you- but I thought it would be a friendly reunion with everyone... I mean, I told Kacchan that you were coming and I asked him not to- I didn't think he'd do that."

Shouto focuses on the initials engraved in the cement by his feet, the grass growing up through the cracks next to them, anything but Midoriya's face. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't even really know how he's feeling, but he does know he's hurt Midoriya enough.

"It's fine, Midoriya. I'm just tired and overwhelmed. I'm going to go get some rest."

"O-okay, yeah." He heaves a sigh that leaves his words a little wobbly, "I really am sorry about Kacchan."

Shouto laughs, but there's no mirth to it, "he's certainly still Bakugou, it seems."

There's no humor in Midoriya's laugh either, "that he is."

It's silent then, but neither move to leave and Shouto can't bring himself to look at Midoriya. Instead wonders how old the person who left those initials is now, if they're even still alive, if he even cares about Midoriya, or if it's just the memory of who Midoriya was that he's attached to.

His skin is beginning to crawl and it has nothing to do with the chill in the air.

He's just starting to think he should say his goodbyes when Midoriya beats him to it.

"Hey, Shouto? We're okay, right?"

There's so much hope in the broken tone of his voice, and, at once, Shouto knows no matter what happens he can't run away again. Not now that there's an image of tear-stained cheeks and green eyes with no light in them standing at the altar alone because his best friend is a coward permanently etched into his mind.

"Yeah, Midoriya, everything's alright. I just, I need to go right now, and you should go back, enjoy your lunch."

Midoriya's voice shakes a little less when he responds, "oh okay, yeah. I'll see you later?"

"See you later, Midoriya."

Shouto is just about to turn around to leave when he feels Midoriya's arms wrapping around him, there's thick dark hair in his nose and Midoriya's torso is pressed tight against his own. He's so lost in his downward spiral that the butterflies don't wake up and his heart barely picks up its pace.

Still the familiar comfort of Midoriya, the smell of his coconut conditioner and the gentle rub of his hand on his back calms his racing thoughts enough that he can pick them apart from one another, can breathe a little deeper.

Too soon, Midoriya is pulling away and Shouto can finally meet his gaze, finds that his tears have dried and he's putting on a brave smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes for Shouto's sake.

"Drive safe, Shou."

And just like that he turns around and heads back to the cafe, leaving Shouto to water the seed planted by Bakugou Katsuki.

The rain has started to fall again by the time Shouto gets home and doesn't let up until Monday morning. He can't help but feel like the sky is crying for him as he spends the weekend lying prone on the couch, leaves the TV on in the background in an attempt to feel less alone.

It doesn't really help, but he does learn how to replace his backsplash, and the pros and cons of laminate flooring thanks to the eight hours he spends listening to the Home Improvement channel.

By the time Monday rolls around he's had a total of six hours of sleep and, when he sees the pale skin and heavy bags around the eyes of the stranger staring back at him from the mirror, he isn't convinced that he's not a ghost.

So, he's a little relieved when he walks into the office and Iida greets him with a furrow to his brow and question on his lips. He shakes it off with a small smile, but the concern evident on Iida's face doesn't dissipate, though the question never leaves his mouth.

Well, at least he's still corporeal.

He makes his way to his office and spends the first forty minutes staring blankly at his computer screen, trapped in an existential sinkhole of his own making. When his phone dings with a text alert, he pulls himself out of the darkness long enough to see Yaoyorozu's name.

 **Good morning, Shouto! Just checking in to see how you're doing? I ran into Sasake the other day and she said she hadn't heard from you yet? Anyway, let me know if you need anything!**

Right, the therapist. Maybe it's time to make that call after all.

With a groan, Shouto picks his messenger bag up off the floor and fishes out the business card he'd dropped into it on Friday- was that only Friday?

The shuffle brings Akari's list to the top of the bag and he's curious enough to pull it out and set it on his desk, welcomes the distraction. It takes him another few minutes to find the card, but the moment he rips it from the bag he's picking up the phone and dialing the number.

Ten minutes later he's hanging up the phone and scheduled to see the doctor Wednesday morning.

It's enough motivation to get him to at least try to work today, even if that work is googling the synopsis' of every book and movie listed on the papers Akari had given him. He even manages to order the first three books on the list, express shipping in hopes he can read at least one of them by Saturday practice.

Three hours go by like that, and the letters on the page are beginning to leap around the screen, when his phone rings. He doesn't even bother to check the screen before picking up.

"Todoroki Shouto speaking."

"Hello?" The voice on the other end wavers even as it greets him, "My name is Shimizu Kuma? I'm returning your call regarding Tamashiro Raiden?"

Shouto sits up tall in his seat at that, any thoughts of himself long gone as he attempts to calm his racing heart.

"Yes! Thank you so much for returning my call. Would you be available to meet today to discuss the c- article?" He catches himself, almost forgetting his own cover story.

"I- yes, I have classes until 1530, is 1600 okay?"

It's not perfect, and he'll have to miss practice, but this is just as important to the case and he's sure Aizawa will understand. Not that it matters- he's not actually a coach. He does his best to ignore the errant thought that Midoriya might be disappointed, none of this is about him and it's probably good that they spend some time apart.

So, they make a plan to meet at a cafe a few blocks from MU at 1600, and when he hangs up the phone this time he's buzzing with anticipation.

He calls Aizawa to inform him of the change of plans. He's understanding as Shouto thought he would be, even if his tone speaks more of apathy than anything else.

He also drafts a text to Midoriya, just an explanation that he won't be there, but his finger hovers over the send button for what feels like days.

 _This is ridiculous_ he thinks, _it's just a text._

So he hits send and only has to wait five minutes for a response.

 **:( bummer! sounds like it's for the best- good luck with your meeting! how are you? it's been a few days!**

And because he can't help himself, Shouto responds.

 **Thank you. I've been alright. Didn't sleep very well this weekend, but looking forward to some big breaks in the case. How are you?**

This time, the reply is almost instant.

 **Oh no! Didn't sleep well? :( I hope it's not because of Kacchan. The trick is not to think too hard about what he says, he doesn't know what he's talking about.**

 **I'm alright! Just trying to convince my kids that the Kamakura period is not, in fact, boring.**

Shouto laughs a little at that and shoots a text back just as quick, though he only addresses the second half.

 **What? They don't like samurais? What's wrong with those kids?**

The first half, well, Shouto's not sure what to think. He's not sure if Midoriya knows what Bakugou said, though his text suggests he probably does and thinks the idea of them having feelings for each other is laughable. Normally he would take Midoriya's advice and just let it go.

Except, some part of him must believe Bakugou's words for them to stick with him, haunt him, like this.

(There's also the fact that Bakugou talked about them being together like Midoriya isn't married, like it's a real possibility, and that is not a can of worms Shouto is willing to open.)

Still, when his phone chimes with another text, Shouto responds and keeps responding as he finishes his workday and walks the ten or so blocks to the cafe to meet Shimizu.

Rapport like this comes easy and distracts Shouto from the impending doom of his own thoughts. There's even almost a smile on his face when he hits send on his last text as he pulls open the cafe door and scans the room for the plaid shirt she said she'd be wearing.

He spots her at a booth in the corner, far away from any of the other patrons, and he's glad for the seclusion, the fewer people to hear the better. With a deep inhale, he puts on his professional face, buys a black coffee at the front counter, and makes his way to the brown-haired girl in the corner booth.

"Himizu?"

The girl startles a little at the sound of her name, but offers him a timid smile, her brown eyes wary as she takes in his appearance. "Todoroki?"

"Yes, thank you for meeting with me."

Her shoulders are shaking as he takes his seat, but she puts on a brave face, "thank you for doing something to expose Tamashiro."

"It's my duty really, can you tell me a little more about what you witnessed. Do you mind if I record this conversation?"

As he speaks, Shouto pulls a small recording device out of his messenger bag and sets it up on the table, Himizu stares at it for a moment before her lips settle into a thin line and her eyes harden in determination.

"Of course. I actually used to work at the Tamashiro estate, I was just a laundry maid, so I wasn't supposed to interact with either of them much, but…"

Himizu tells Shouto stories of too hard grips and slaps that rang through the house, clothes with blood stains and bruises hidden beneath layers of bandages, cruel words that echoed from the walls, and a sad, lonely girl who followed her around as she worked, weaving stories of love and romance and tragedy beyond her years. There's fear and pain etched in Himizu's gaze on him, and it's easy enough to see that she would do anything to help her. He can't believe his luck, he's found a goldmine.

"And why haven't you come forward in the past?" He inquires and almost regrets the blunt tone to his words when he sees her flinch.

"I- well, I signed an NDA when I was hired, and- and when they fired me, they threatened to come after my family. We don't have much already and I couldn't risk my parent's livelihood."

Shouto nods at that and hopes his smile is as encouraging as he intends it to be.

"Will this- I can be anonymous right? You won't leave any of the personal stuff in?"

Himizu starts shaking again when Shouto's face falls, but he breathes it away because he knows he can win this case, knows Himizu's family will be safe.

"Actually Himizu, I haven't been entirely honest. I'm not a reporter, I'm a social worker and I'm working on Akari's case. I want her to be safe just as much as you, but in order to make that happen, well, you will need to testify."

Her face goes white at that, "testify?"

"Your testimony is fundamental to this case, I know it's a lot to ask, but you and your family will be safe from retaliation. Evidence of domestic abuse renders the NDA null and void."

Himizu's honey-brown eyes are staring into his own and darkening as they fill with resolve.

"And Akari?"

"Will be removed from his custody. Our ultimate goal is to send Tamashiro to prison for a long, long time."

Her eyes light up at that, blazing with vengeful fire. It's all she needs to hear, it seems.

"Okay, I'll do it."

Shouto is practically walking on cloud nine by the time he's pulling into the lot behind his building. The sky is a little grey and the leaves on the ground are soggy, but he could care less because he's finally making some real headway in this case.

He's even beginning to think that maybe Midoriya is right and Katsuki doesn't know what he's talking about.

He had, after all, decided long ago that, no matter how many stupid butterflies live in his stomach, or near strokes he suffers thanks to his overactive heart, he will not act on his feelings because Midoriya deserves better than him, has always deserved better than him. He's happy to love him from the sidelines, as long as he gets to be on them at all.

He's done running and, even if he's only in love with an idea, well, he's not friends with an idea.

He's friends with Midoriya Izuku.

There's wind whistling through the hole in his chest, but the smile on his face is genuine when he closes the door of his apartment behind himself and toes off his shoes.

The apartment is as sad and grey as the sky, but the tree Midoriya had given him somehow manages to bring a little light in. Besides, Shouto doesn't really mind the chill in the air or the dark sky, it's comforting in that curl up and watch a movie type of way and he thinks he'll do just that.

So, he changes out of his suit and curls onto the couch, turns on the TV and searches for the first movie on Akari's list, _An Affair to Remember._

The beginning credits are starting to roll and he's quickly sinking into the cushions of his couch, his eyelids growing heavy as two sleepless nights start to catch up to him, when a knock sounds at the door.

It's probably just his neighbor from down the hall, the one who's always coming around asking for a cup of sugar he never has. He's turned him away enough times to know he won't leave until Shouto answers, so, with a stretch and a yawn he pulls himself out of his blanket cocoon and pads to the door.

He's expecting to tell Inasa no for what must be the fiftieth time. What he's not expecting is to find a familiar wide smile and dark, bushy hair staring back at him, a box held tight in scarred hands, and- oh god, why did he check for the ring? It's still not there and even the tan line has started to fade.

(It doesn't matter, anyway. Even if- well, Shouto's not the best choice, he's not even a good choice and he knows it. So, he adopts 'it doesn't matter' as his new mantra and repeats it until it's true.)

"Midoriya?" Is all he can manage, and Midoriya must hear the dull tones of surprise under his sleepy monotone.

"Hi, Shouto! I figured I'd stop by and drop this stuff off since you couldn't make it to practice and it seemed like you were having a long day. I brought Soba! There's enough for both of us, but I wouldn't want to intrude- well, I guess I already have, sorry for just barging in on you like this. Oh god, this is so rude- I'll just… I'll leave this here with you and head out."

Shouto can't help his exasperated sigh or the small smile on his lips. He thinks he should probably ask him to leave, take that break he was thinking about earlier, but his stomach gurgles at the mention of his favorite meal and he's reminded he hasn't eaten in a few days, and, really, who is he kidding, this is iMidoriyai/.

"It's okay, Midoriya. You said something about Soba?"

Midoriya's eyes are shining and there's laughter in his cheeks as he steps into the apartment and slides out of his shoes. Shouto follows him as he heads to the kitchen and sets the box down on the counter, pulling the takeout containers off the top.

While Midoriya searches Shouto's kitchen for bowls and chopsticks, Shouto is too tired to fight his curiosity and peeks into the box to find six matching frames protecting one old comic book each. Not just any old comic books, though, _their old comic books_ , the ones they read back to front so many times that the pages are thin and frayed and the fading covers are smudged with fingerprints.

He pulls the top one out, The Amazing Spiderman, the cover kind of still reads, and his lips curl around the edges as he remembers long winter days spent holed up in Midoriya's room. He'd had a late childhood sure, but, thanks to Midoriya, he at least got some semblance of one.

"I saved those from Mom's house. I thought they might look nice in here. If you want them, obviously."

Shouto's pointer finger draws down the glass and he chalks the tears gathering in his eyes up to his exhaustion as he looks over his shoulder and sees the worry in the tension of Midoriya's lips, the shine of his eyes.

"They're wonderful. Of course, I'll keep them. Thank you, Midoriya."

The red that floods Midoriya's face is mesmerizing, freckles dot his cheeks like constellations, and his smile is near blinding. Shouto doesn't think he could look away if he wanted to.

Distantly, a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that these are not very platonic thoughts, but he's too tired to care, ready to throw caution to the wind and- "I was just getting ready to watch another movie actually. If you'd like to join me?"

Somehow Midoriya's smile grows impossibly brighter, "I'd love to! Um, what are we watching?"

"An Affair to Remember."

"Such a good movie! So sad and romantic! The pacing is a little disjointed and the scene with Cary Grant's grandma- well not his actual Grandma- is like some kind of weird fever dream. Oh! We should watch Sleepless in Seattle next, did you know they-" and just like that, he's off, rapid-firing his thoughts faster than Shouto can keep up, but Shouto doesn't mind as he grabs his own bowl of Soba off the counter and follows Midoriya to the couch.

In so many ways, Midoriya will always be Midoriya, Shouto's first and closest friend.

He's lucky he can even still call him that.

So, if Midoriya's blinding smile and vulnerability and stubborn determination and mere _presence_ ignite goosebumps on Shouto's skin and a fire in his chest, well, that's for Shouto to know and Midoriya to never NEVER find out.

 **A/N: Oh you messy, messy boys. We are headed right into the climax of the story, folks. Buckle up for a bumpy ride. Also, just wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you for the comments and favorites! This awkward little writer dies in the best way at your kind words. So, leave comments if you like it? Okay, 'til next time, my dears!**


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